


Sex God Ross

by dazylein



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 49,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6657391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazylein/pseuds/dazylein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon gets a summer job at the SJS Hotel in Miami where he meets the world famous model Ryan Ross</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Miami was hot in ways that didn’t just apply to temperature. Hot outfits, hot music, and most importantly, hot people that were currently swarming the beach. I had arrived only a minute ago, and already I could spot at least five sexy male models being washed out to my viewing pleasure by the ocean waves. Water droplets were running down like a river in the vertical line between their abs. Their skin tight swim trunks were pinching their butt cheeks and left little to my imagination. One dark haired guy shook his head in the most alluring way possibly and water was flying around him like an erotic halo. This was better than porn, I thought, sitting down on the hot sand that was burning my ass. My eyes wandered over to the volleyball nets where a bunch of tanned, boobs-the-size-of-their-butt girls were slamming the ball back and forth to each other. Being Bi had it’s perks in Miami; no matter what you were looking at, you could always find someone whose voluptuous body made your cock twitch. 

I sighed, looking down between my legs. One of the few downsides of Miami was that if you were a horny nineteen-year-old guy, like I was, your dick was always pointing upwards. Time to hit the water, I thought, drown the erection and my sexual rejection. I couldn’t believe how invisible I was in Miami. Where I was from, I had no trouble picking up dates and getting laid. My move to Miami had happened eight days ago and the only attention I had gotten since then was from twelve-year old girls at the hotel pool. 

My friend Brent had mentioned how he played bass on a cruise ship every summer. I had never even been out of Danvers, and the idea of getting a job somewhere that was cool and warm had inspired me to apply anywhere I could. Last month, I had finally gotten hired to perform at the most luxuries hotel Miami had to offer: the SJS Hotel (letters pronounced in French to make it sound even fancier than it already was). I figured as a young, good-looking guy who could sing and play piano like a pro, I would have no trouble getting hot, rich Miami boys and girls. Turns out I was wrong. I was instructed to play boring, classical songs during dinner and sing jazz songs in the evenings when elderly couples were consuming their 500-year-old wine. Nobody paid even the slightest attention to my existence. It made me wonder why the hotel didn’t just let a CD play on repeat and fire me. 

I got out of the water and dried off. I checked the time on my phone and realized I’d better get going. Yesterday, my manager had told me I was going to need to wear a more expensive looking suit, if I wanted to keep my job. I bluntly told him I didn’t have any money to waste on clothing, and shouldn’t the hotel supply me with a uniform? My manager had shaken his head and given me 3000 dollars. 3000 fucking dollars! How many suits did he expect me to buy?

I wandered around the strip, trying to find an appropriate looking store. Hugo Boss would do, I hoped, and walked in. I quickly made my way over to the blazer and picked the first one I saw that looked like it could fit me. This place was awkward as fuck. I think I was the only person in it with an outfit that cost less than an average car. The sales woman asked me if I was here to pick up a delivery for someone. I blushed and told her I was looking for a suit for myself. She raised a disbelieving eyebrow at me and called another girl over to assist me.

 

“This should do,” the girl told me, holding five different suits in her arms, and lead me to the fitting rooms. I followed her with nervous steps. As rude as the service people were, the girl had done a good job in picking out the right types of clothes. I looked like every other millionaire’s son fuckboy that was littering the streets. In other words, I looked better than I ever had.  
Out of the five, I chose the cheapest suit, figuring I could save some of the 3000 dollars instead of wasting it all on blazers. I was about to make my way to the cash register when the service girl stopped me. 

“Try this one too,” she told me and threw a black polo shirt at me, “It’s on the house.”  
Okay then, I thought and went back into the changing stall.  
“And don’t bother taking it off, if it fits!”, the girl yelled through the mirrored wall. They probably didn’t want to have a dirty boy in his old muscle shirt walking out the store. I doubted the shirt was actually free, but Hugo Boss probably cared more about losing his reputation than losing a 200-dollar shirt.  
“Keltie, sweetheart, you know I can’t go out in public if I’m not in disguise.” Some sex-god said, trying on a pair of black sunglasses as I walked by the accessory section.  
“Well, they look like shit on you.” Said Keltie, who was also really hot, but looked like a poor pauper’s daughter compared to sex-god.  
“No they don’t. You just have a fucked up taste.” Sex-god retorted.  
I walked passed them slower than a snail. Sex-god’s voice and appearance were just too attractive, and I was surprised that I didn’t just stop completely to stare at him.  
“Hey, you!” Sex-god suddenly pointed at me and my heart was trying to stop while beating 500 billion times faster than usual, “Those shades look good on me right?”  
I nodded hastily, feeling my face flush. Of course they looked fucking good on him, that boy could have worn a clown’s costume and still managed to appear sexy in it.  
“I will not be seen with you wearing these,” Keltie threatened. Sex-god shrugged his shoulders and Keltie pushed past him, out of the stores. “Call me when you look decent.” She yelled and waved goodbye.  
“Fucking bitch,” I heard sex-god mutter and couldn’t help but smile.  
I reluctantly made my way to the cash register, Sex-god following after me.  
“How many of these Fedora’s have you sold?” Sex-god asked the cashier, while she packed my suit in a simple bag. I had wondered if I would get one of those cool, suit-cover bags, but apparently my purchase wasn’t worthy of one. Or maybe I just wasn’t.  
“They just arrived this morning, Mr. Ross. We haven’t sold any yet.”  
Mr. Ross, that name sounded vaguely familiar, I wondered where I had heard it before. Sex-god Ross grabbed a black hat and tapped me on my shoulder.  
“What do you think?”, he asked me, making it sound like he actually cared about my answer, when I knew he was going to buy it regardless of anyone’s opinion, especially mine.  
“You look hot in it,” I told him honestly, because fuck me, he was the definition of hot.  
“So you wouldn’t mind getting seen with me in public?”  
“God no.”  
Sex-god Ross smirked at me and threw a few hundred dollar bills on the counter. “Let’s go then,” he said and pulled me out of the store.


	2. Chapter 2

“Where are we going?” I asked a few minutes later. I had gotten used to his sexual vibe by then, and was able to think somewhat coherently. Sex-god Ross could be a mass murder, I realized, and I was following him like a blind puppy to my death bed. Stranger Danger, my brain screamed at me in my mom’s voice.  
“Where would you like to go?” He tilted his head and faced me, and there was no way he could be my future killer with that kind of smile. He reminded me of a cute, little, innocent child in that moment. Then he turned his head back forward, becoming sex-god Ross once again. His jaw line was as prominent as the soon-to-be bulge in my pants, I thought, as I licked my lips subconsciously, trying not to imagine my mouth on his face.  
He nudged my shoulder and I remembered that he’d ask me a question.  
“Uhhhh,” I stuttered, frantically looking around to see what kind of stores we could go in. My eyes landed on a cute, little Italian restaurant. “Let’s go eat something.”  
“Boring, but okay,” Sex-god obliged and dragged me to one of the tables that were put up outside the entrance. 

As soon as we sat down, a waitress rushed over and handed us menu cards.  
“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked, her question directed at sex-god. Again, I was reminded of how invisible I seemed to be in this city.  
“What kinds of waters do you have?” Sex-god Ross inquired, making it almost sound like it was a normal question.  
“We have Aqua Panna, Pellegrino, and Ferrarelle.”  
“I take the S. Pellegrino, then.” Sex-god said, rolling the R like he was a born Italian. I never knew water brands could sound this sexy.  
“And for you?”  
“Ice-tea?” I ordered, hoping they actually served simple drinks on the beverage menu.  
The waitress nodded and left me alone in Sex-god’s sexual atmosphere that he seemed to be radiating non-stop.

“How long have you been in Miami?” He asked me, tapping his long fingers on the table. I noticed a big, silver ring on his middle finger. Thank god, he wasn’t married. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me before, but it was a nice realization anyhow.  
“Eight days,” I muttered, and sex-god laughed. I was sure his laughter was directed at me, but it sounded so beautiful, I really couldn’t feel offended.  
“So you’re a brand new newbie.” He stated. If I had said that same sentence I probably would have sounded like a dork, but once more, he proved to be able to make anything coming out of his lips sound alluring.  
I nodded again, and Sex-god’s smile grew wider.  
“What’s your name?”  
“Brendon,” I told him, “And yours?”  
Sex-god snickered again, and I was confused why he was so amused by this conversation.  
“Ryan,” he said, and it dawned on me then.  
“Oh fuck,” I breathed out, finally making the connection.  
“You’re THE Ryan Ross,” I clarified, and of fucking course he was THE Ryan Ross. No other man but Ryan Ross could summon up to such beauty. I wanted to hit myself in the head with my own stupidity. How had I not known that sex-god Ross was Ryan Ross, the most attractive male model on this entire planet?  
“Good, you did hear of me then,” Ryan teased, “It would’ve hurt my ego otherwise, you know.”  
“The sunglasses threw me off,” I tried to defend myself. Ryan just grinned at me, flashing his white, small teeth.

The waitress came back with our drinks and asked us (aka Ryan) what we wanted food-wise.  
“The margarita pizza, please,” I ordered, since pizza was always a safe choice and I hadn’t actually read the menu.  
“And for you?” She smiled at Ryan. I noticed how she hadn’t smiled at me.  
“The garden salad, with dressing on the side.”  
“Excellent choice,” she complimented and wrote the order down extra slowly in her notepad. After what felt like an eternity, she finally walked away from us, swinging her hips back and forth invitingly, but Ryan’s attention was thankfully back on me. 

“How long are you staying in Miami?”  
“Until the end of summer,” I replied and told him about my job.  
“So you’re a singer?” I nodded and Ryan’s mouth spread into a smirk again, “That’s cute.”  
“How is that cute?” I demanded to know, because when I thought of a singer, the words hot and sexy came to mind, not fucking cute. 5-year-old singing children might be considered cute, but not me.  
“It just is,” Ryan said. Fuck him, I thought, and sucked ice tea through my straw as seductively as I possible could. That would show him how cute I was.

“So what’s the Miami story so far?”  
I gave him a confused stare.  
Ryan sighed and made a gesture with his hand, “Well, you’re obviously from a small town, farm maybe even-“  
“I do not live on a farm!” I protest.  
Ryan continued, like I hadn’t just interrupted him: “So when you return home and go back to your town meetings, what story are you going to tell them about? What outrageous thing have happened to you so far?”  
“We don’t have town meetings,” I informed him, trying to avoid his actual question that I had no answer to.  
“I thought every town did!” Ryan argued and it was my turn to laugh at him. Ryan pouted, “They have one in Gilmore Girls. Your town must be boring as fuck.”  
“Is that the only source you got this illusion from?” I mocked him, “You know that’s a TV show, right?”  
“So are Gossip Girl and Sex and the City, yet I see that stuff on there happening all the time.”  
Up until this point, I hadn’t realized how different Ryan’s life must be from mine. He was surrounded by glamour and elegance all the time, and whereas Miami was a dream-city to me, it was probably a shithole compared to all the places Ryan had been to. 

To prove this fact even further, our meals arrived right then. I hadn’t eaten all day and hungrily dove into my pizza. Ryan, however, was poking in his salad every few minutes, chewing carefully and drowning every bite down with water.  
“You want a slice?” I offered him, noticing how miserable his salad looked compared to my cheesy pizza.  
“No, thanks,” Ryan declined, “Abs are made in the kitchen, you know.”  
Was he calling me fat? I took a big bite of my pizza in protest. “You must work hard on your body, then.” I noted, because Ryan seemed to be really proud of his physical appearance.  
“Nah, I was born with this body.”  
“Your parents conceived you in the kitchen?” I smirked. Ryan looked at me confused, not getting my joke. “Never mind,” I muttered and took another bite of my food.


	3. Chapter 3

We finished eating, with the occasional small talk here and there. Ryan told me about a photo shoot he had to do tomorrow, and bitched about the photographer a lot. Ryan was kind of a snob. He had grown up in a billionaire’s home, as far as I knew, his dad owning a bunch of casinos on the Las Vegas strip. Ryan probably never had to worry about money, and was used to the constant attention people were giving him.  
“Why did you want to hang out with me?” I dared to ask him when Ryan had paid for our lunch.  
“Because you’re a newbie.”  
“So? Plenty of people come to Miami everyday.”  
“But none of them are as cute as you,” I could see him winking at me through his sunglasses, and scoffed when I realized he had called me cute yet again.  
Ryan could only be two or three years older than me. There was no way he saw me as a little, cute child, and not a potential sex partner.  
“So where do I drop you off?” Ryan asked me once we had left the restaurant.  
“The SJS hotel.”  
“Spencer’s?” Ryan asked and I nodded. Spencer James Smith, the guy who had named his own hotel after himself.  
“Cool, he’s like my best friend,” Ryan informed me, and of course they were friends. Ryan looked at me, and heaved out an exaggerated sigh when I didn’t respond. “He’s my best friend, in a way that I have my own suite in that hotel, meaning I totally have a bed available for use whenever I need it, meaning you’re totally welcome to come up after work.”  
Oh.  
“Are you going to come down to hear me play?”  
Ryan waved his hand in a dismissive way, “Nah, I want you to save your best vocals for later. And make sure you’re wearing the suit that you bought today.”  
“I have no choice, but to wear it.”  
A questioning eyebrow appeared over Ryan’s sunglasses, so I told him about my manager.  
Ryan was exasperated, “He only gave you 3000 bucks? What kind of a cheap asshole is he?”  
I looked at him stunned and Ryan grabbed my hand and turned us both around, “C’mon I’ll buy you something to make up for it.”  
“It’s okay Ryan, I really don’t need anything.” I tried to dissuade him.  
Ryan smirked at me again and I was starting to get used to his amused facial expressions, “The more you wear, the more I get to take off tonight.”

Ryan showed me to his suite at the SJS hotel and my eyes widened, taking the enormous room into view.  
“That’s just the living room, wait until you see the bedroom.” He took his sunglasses and fedora off and put them on the nearest table.  
“Huh,” Ryan said, looking at me with his pair of gorgeous, brown eyes that I hadn’t seen until now, “You’re paler than I thought.”  
Ryan wasn’t the best at giving compliments, I was quickly realizing. I had spent the past week on the beach, making sure I was turning more brown than red by the sunlight. I really thought I had gotten a bit tanner, but apparently not enough to meet Ryan’s standards.  
“Sorry, I don’t have your sun-kissed skin yet.” I replied sarcastically.  
“Don’t worry, cutie-pie, you can be my sun tonight,” Ryan smiled smugly at me, “Or moon, since you’ll probably be gloating in the dark.”  
I rolled my eyes at him, “Stop calling me cute.”  
“But you’re so innocent and adorable, I can’t help myself.”  
“I’m not innocent!” I protested.  
“Oh really? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”  
“Agreeing to hang out with you.” I shot back.  
Ryan send me a lopsided grin, “Good. You wouldn’t be a newbie otherwise.”  
“What?” I asked, taken aback by his answer.  
Ryan flung himself onto the couch, “Do you remember how I asked you about what you’re going to tell your friends back home at the end of the summer? About the things you’ve done?”  
Ryan waited for me to nod and didn’t break eye contact when he started to speak again, in a serious voice: “I want to be that story.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryden shmutt

Ryan insisted that I changed into the new suit in my own room. When I had walked beside Ryan people had paid attention to us, mainly because of him, but seeing as I had been with him they had been forced to acknowledge me as well. Now, it was back to normal. I was invisible and people didn’t care about my existence. I played the classical songs over dinner, hopelessly looking around the room every now and then to see if Ryan had changed his mind and had decided to hear my performance after all. When the clock finally struck ten and I was done with my shift, I was sprinting to the elevators and knocking on Ryan’s door.  
Ryan opened up and immediately pulled me inside his room, shutting the door and pressing me up against it.  
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked me, his breath causing goosebumps on my skin.  
“Fuck yes.” I said and couldn’t even close my mouth before Ryan’s tongue was darting in. I was expecting the kiss to be sloppy, but proven wrong by how perfectly Ryan’s mouth fit on my own. He licked the underside of my tongue, pulled back and softly bit my lip. I moaned helplessly and wrapped my hands around his neck, trying to pull his mouth back on mine. Ryan chuckled lowly and tilted his head, sucking on my neck as I started thrusting against him.  
“You look like a fuckboy in that suit, you know.” Ryan mumbled, his hot breath tickling in my ears.  
I gasped when his tongue started swirling around my earlobe, “That’s what I was aiming for.”  
Ryan’s palms were pressing against my chest, slowly letting the blazer I was wearing hit the ground. His long, elegant fingers proceeded to the unbuttoning of my black dress shirt, his fingertips cold against my heated skin. We were back to kissing another, Ryan sucking on my tongue hard. I had initially planned on taking his shirt off of him too, but somehow my hands had gotten lost in his soft, brown hair.  
“Fuck Ry,” I groaned, when the last button on my shirt was finally undone and his hands were roaming all over my exposed chest. He moved his head down, sucking on my collarbone while his thumb and forefinger were pinching my nipple.  
I tried taking my own pants off to speed up the process, but Ryan swatted them away.  
“Let me,” he rasped.  
I could feel myself hardening as Ryan fumbled with the zipper. Finally, my slacks were undone and out sprang my fully erect cock.  
Ryan gazed at me in disbelieve, his pupils completely blown. “Ran out of fresh underwear?” He breathed.  
“Ran out of patience,” I mumbled against his mouth and felt Ryan’s lips widen as they spread into a smile.  
“Then what are you waiting for?” He purred and stepped away from me, pulling his shirt over himself in a way only a goddamn model had been trained to do. “Fashion shows,” he informed me, “I can get naked in less than three seconds.”  
He pulled me up higher against the door. My legs automatically wrapped around his torso as he held me in the air with both of his hands resting on my ass.  
Ryan started to carry me to the bedroom and I was surprised by his strength. Sure, it was in his job description to be in shape and workout, but Ryan wasn’t the bulky kind of model. He was lean with long legs and a small torso, in a Francisco Lachowski kind of way.  
I gasped against his mouth when we both fell onto the mattress. I didn’t expect Ryan to be the one underneath me, but when his fingers started playing around my entrance, it all made sense.  
“Lube,” I managed to articulated over my hitched breathing.  
“You need it now? Or can it wait until later?” Ryan asked, and I pulled away from him, trying to get enough space between us to think properly. The last time I had been fucked had happened right before I left home.  
“Later should be fine.” I told him honestly and tried to kiss Ryan again, but instead he pushed his fingers inside my open mouth. I swirled my tongue around his digits, sucking and producing as much spit as I possibly could. Ryan pulled his hand away and I felt his middle finger slide inside my ass.  
I hissed at the penetration, though Ryan tried to sooth me, his other hand playing with my hair and his mouth nuzzling my neck. He added another finger and started scissoring me slowly. I hadn’t been as stretched as I’d thought I was, but Ryan was careful enough not to hurt me.  
“Do you always do that?” I asked him, trying to distract myself from the pain.  
“Do what?” Ryan stopped sucking on my nipple and looked at me.  
“Fuck the newbie on the first day.”  
Ryan chuckled, “Sometimes. It all depends on how eager they are.” His tongue trailed the outline of my jaw, “After a few days, I don’t bother with most of them anyways.”  
“What about me?”  
Ryan’s eyes twinkled in a mix of amusement and lust, “I don’t know, you’re different from the others.”  
I tried to respond, but his mouth was back on mine and it was clear that he wanted me to stop talking.  
“Ready for the third?” He asked in between kisses and waited for my approval before his index finger pushed through the tight ring of muscle. 

“Fuck me.” I begged when three fingers didn’t feel like enough anymore.  
Ryan pulled them out and I heard myself whimper at the loss. He pushed me off of him and rummaged through his nightstand drawer.  
“You’ve got any preferences in lube or condoms?” He asked, throwing banana, cherry, and strawberry lube at me. “For condoms, I’ve got blueberry, mint, orange, chocolate- “  
“Chocolate,” I cut him off, “It goes with the strawberry lube.”  
“Okay then.” Ryan moved back to me on the bed and I opened the bottle. Strawberry was the only lube that was still unused and brand new, which was precisely why I had chosen that flavor.  
Ryan’s dick was longer and thicker than mine and I took my time slicking it up properly. The air in the room was a mix of sweat, chocolate, and strawberry and my stomach was rumbling with lust.  
“Knees or facing?” Ryan inquired.  
“Facing,” I said, not wanting to miss the opportunity to be this close to him. I was surprised with how often he was letting me decide what we were going to do. For some reason, I had pictured sex with Ryan Ross to be fast and rough. This was so much more intimate than I had ever imagined.  
Ryan lined his dick up to my hole and pushed it in in one go. A mutual groan erupted in both of our throats and echoed through the room. Ryan’s thrusts were hard and precise. The slamming of his hips against my ass harmonizing perfectly with my fast beating heart.  
“Oh fuck,” I howled when Ryan found my prostate, “Fuck right there.”  
My cock was throbbing and I felt Ryan’s hand sneak in between our bodies, wrapping around my dick and stroking hastily.  
“I’m close,” I groaned after a short while, the orgasm building up more and more with every thrust. My hips jerked and I was ready to let out a long, sinful moan, when Ryan pressed his mouth against mine, silencing me as come splashed on both our stomachs.  
Seconds later, Ryan’s thrust became more erratic and he came inside me.  
He pulled his softening cock out and tossed the condom away before laying back down on the bed, pulling me closer to him as we laid together on the huge mattress.  
“Do you want me to leave?” I whispered, unsure if Ryan normally send his newbies away after they fucked, or not. We both had come down from our orgasm, if he wanted me to leave, now was the time.  
“You can stay if you want.” Ryan cooed against my hair.  
“Good,” I breathed out in relief and wrapped my arms around Ryan’s form, pulling myself closer to him and resting my check on his chest.  
“You know what?” I broke the silence again a few moments later. Ryan hummed questioningly, “If you ever get bored of modeling, we should start our own cologne company, chocolate-strawberry-sweat-come is a scent everyone should get the chance to wear.”  
Ryan broke into a loud laughter, and I felt the vibration rustling through his body. “Go to sleep.” He told me and pulled the blanket over our entwined body parts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scary!Spencer's first appearance

The next morning, I woke up clutching tightly to a pillow. Memories from last night slowly came back to me and I frantically looked for Ryan. He wasn’t in the bed with me and I stood up to check if maybe he was in the washroom or something. The bathroom was just as empty. I remembered what Ryan had told me, about most Newbies only lasting a few days with him. I must have been a lousier lay than the average fuck Ryan got if I couldn’t even keep him for more than a single night. My body smelled of sex, and dried come was still glued on my stomach. If he doesn’t even have the decency to kick me out personally, I might as well take advantage of his marble tub, I thought bitterly. While I let the water run and fill up the tub, I looked at myself in the mirror. Something about my appearance was different. A big, pink post-it note was stuck on my forehead. I pulled it off and read it:

Hey Brendon, you look so cute when you’re asleep, I can’t bring myself to wake you. Anyway, I’m off to do that photoshoot I told you about. Feel free to do whatever you like (just don’t break anything too expensive), and come by again tonight if you don’t mind me being a pain in your ass. 

There was a winky face at the end of the note and I couldn’t help but let myself smile at it. 

I bathed in bubble water and washed my hair with foreign sounding shampoo. It smelled good, whatever scent it was supposed to be, and I wondered if it was the standard SJS hotel suite shampoo or if Ryan had brought his own.   
Once dressed, I was tempted to just hang around the suite, but I was wearing my uncomfortable suit and despite Ryan’s hospitality, I felt like an intruder being alone in his room.   
I went back to my own, smaller hotel room and changed into bathing shorts and a simple white shirt, deciding to go back to the beach again and work on my tan, that clearly needed improvement. However, on my way out, I was stopped by the receptionist.  
“Excuse me, Mr. Urie,” she said, “Mr. Smith wants to see you in his office.”  
Oh shit, I thought, remembering how Ryan had mentioned they were friends. No, not friends, BEST friends. He probably wanted me fired for fucking his buddy.

I knocked on his office timidly.   
“Come in,” boomed a voice and I forced myself to enter.  
I had never seen Spencer James Smith in person. I never had WANTED to see him in person. Mr. Smith was intimidating and scary and most employees were afraid of him.  
“Who are you?” He asked, sitting in his leather office chair behind his big, glass desk. Even his office made me feel smaller than I actually was.  
“I’m Brendon Urie, sir. I was told by the receptionist that you wanted see me.”  
“You’re Ryan’s newbie,” Mr. Smith clarified and I nodded. I had always thought that Ryan had made up the word Newbie, but now I was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t just Miami slang for stupid, horny, youngster.  
“Did you use a condom last night?” Mr. Smith was now asking me and I felt myself blush. How the fuck did he know all this information? I nodded to his answer, nevertheless.  
“Good,” my boss said, “Because if you give him any kind of STD I will chop your head off.”  
I gulped. I thought getting fired would be the worst possible scenario coming out of this conversation, but clearly I’d been wrong.  
“Now,” Mr. Smith continued, like he hadn’t just given me a death threat, “I’m sure you read through the ethics codex of this hotel and remember reading the passage where the mentioning of having “special” relationships with our guests is stated to be forbidden. Seeing as Mr. Ross is the owner of one of our finest suites, he is a permanent guest at the SJS Hotel. Now, Mr. Urie, do you understand what the issue here is?”   
“Yes, sir.” I replied, trying to level my breathing and stop my hands from shaking this obviously.  
“So what are you going to say to Mr. Ross next time you see him?”  
“That I can no longer see him.”   
“Wrong!” Mr. Smith bellowed and I flinched, “You’re not going to see Mr. Ross period. Understood?”  
“Yes sir.”  
“Good. You’re dismissed.”  
I didn’t think I ever left a room faster in my life. 

I was speed walking out of the hotel, deep into my thoughts, before I realized I had run into somebody.  
“Shit, I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, hoping it wasn’t a guest that would report me and upset Mr. Smith even further.  
“No worries, I should’ve paid more attention to my surroundings. Totally my fault.” The guy smiled at me and I found myself returning the gesture.   
“You’re a guest here?” I asked him carefully. The man was noticeably handsome and tall, taller than Ryan who was already the standard model height.   
“Nope, just the delivery boy.” He grinned again, and pointed to the package that must’ve fallen on the floor during our collision. We both bent down to pick it up, resulting in our heads smashing against each other.  
“I’m so sorry.” We blurted out simultaneously and started to laugh at our own clumsiness.  
“I’m Dallon,” the guy introduced himself and held out his hand, that seemed to be twice the size of my own.  
“Brendon,” I said and shook it.  
“Well, it’s nice to meet you Brendon; definitely memorable how we did. But I better deliver this package now, before Mr. Smith calls my workplace again and complains that I’m not doing my job right.”  
“Shit, you better hurry up then. He already threatened to kill me, I don’t wish the same fate on you.”  
Dallon’s eyes widened, “Oh God, what did you do?”  
I made a careless hand motion, “I’ll tell you some other time, when you’re not in the possible wrath of Spencer James Smith.”  
Dallon laughed, “Do you think I’m off the hook by tonight?”  
I was about to tell him that I had already plans for then, but Spencer’s words came back to me and how I wasn’t allowed to see Ryan anymore. “Tonight sounds great.” I said and forced a smile.


	6. Chapter 6

I went swimming after Dallon and I had exchanged numbers, hoping the rush of the waters would clear my head. It didn’t. But it made the time pass by faster and before I knew it, Dallon and I were hanging out at the Kennedy Space Center. Dallon was a huge nerd, I realized. 

Dallon was from Missouri and had moved to Miami after high school, four years ago. He loved Star Trek and could recite the whole Star Wars introduction, which he proofed to me, while we walked around the NASA building. Dallon was entertaining and managed to keep my thoughts of Ryan to a minimum. Despite my earlier swim, I could still smell his fucking shampoo in my hair and every time the scent hit my nose I was reminded of last night. I shook my head, trying to erase the never-to-be-repeated-again memories from my brain.  
“You okay?”, Dallon asked me and I smiled, assuring him I was fine, “You never told me about why Mr. Smith is plotting gunpowder in your room.”  
“Well apparently I broke one of the ethics code of the hotel, which by the way, is like fifty fucking pages long, so of course I never read it! But yeah, he gave me a warning and pretty much told me that if I were ever to do it again it would have ugly consequences.”  
I must have looked miserable telling him that, because Dallon’s face was full of concern and empathy, “That sucks,” he said, “I’m really sorry.” He didn’t ask any more questions about the incident after that, and I was grateful for it.

We left the Space Center shortly thereafter and went our separate ways. I had had fun with Dallon, and we agreed to meet up again soon. I went back to the hotel and after work, headed straight to my room. I slipped under my sheets, that weren’t nearly as soft as Ryan’s had been. The bed, despite it being a single whereas Ryan’s was a 10ft fucking mattress, felt incredibly huge. For fucks sake, Brendon, I told myself, you’ve known this guy for one day, he shouldn’t have such an impact on you. I fell asleep at some point of not thinking of Ryan, dreaming about rockets and spaceships and chopped of heads floating around in space.

The next day, I decided to go shopping. After all, I still had some extra money left from the 3000 dollars my manager had given to me. I avoided going to the strip, just in case Ryan was there again, and made my way over to the mall instead. Bad idea, I thought, when literally every place had pictures of Ryan Ross somewhere, whether he was modelling for their product or on one of their magazines. I still couldn’t believe that I hadn’t recognized Ryan the first (and only) time we met, seeing as his face and name were literally everywhere around me.  
I didn’t stay in the mall for too long, and went back to the hotel. The hotel had a music room, where I would sometimes go to and practise my performance for the evening. I hid away in Bach and Mozart melodies, until it was seven and my shift started. 

I played through dinner, and entertained the evening guests with some sad ballade. When it was finally ten o’clock I was relieved to be done. The dinner hall was empty, except for a tall figure sitting in one of the chairs. He stood up, when I stopped playing, and strode over to me.  
“Hey,” Ryan greeted me and I felt my heart trying to reach out for him, pulling him into a hug, when my arms and legs refused to do so.  
“Hi,” I said, and we stood there awkwardly, in silence.  
“I’m sorry I had sex with you.” Ryan apologized. Wait what? Why was he apologizing for the best sex I have ever had in my life? Or was he not apologizing at all and simply sorry for himself because I was the worst lay in history, and he could never erase that horrible memory from his brain?  
“I’m sorry too,” I began, “I mostly just slept with girls back home, and only had sex with a few guys, so-“  
“What are you trying to say?” Ryan interrupted me.  
“That I’m a horrible lay.”  
Ryan suddenly burst out laughing, “What the fuck, Brendon? Do you honestly think that?” I nodded embarrassed. “You’re literally in my top ten best fucks list.”  
“Then why are you sorry?” It was my turn to ask him. I tried not to think about how many people Ryan must have slept with to have started a ranking list.  
“Because you’re a Newbie and you were probably just star struck when you met me and didn’t actually want to fuck me, just my fame.”  
“Is that what you think of me?” I asked him, offended and ashamed at the same time.  
“Why else didn’t you show up last night?”  
“Because it’s against the codex. I can’t have sex with a hotel guest. Mr. Smith said, he’d fire me if I saw you again.”  
“Spencer said that? That piece of shit!” Ryan’s face was screwed up in anger for a few seconds, before he noticed my still scared and shy expression. “You’re not going to get fired,” he told me softly, and pulled me into a hug.

Ryan escorted me to the elevators and up to his suite. He assured me again that I was not going to lose my job and we ended up having sex with blueberry condoms and strawberry lube. I fell asleep in Ryan’s arms and was awoken by his yelling, the next morning.  
“You can’t control my sex life!” I heard Ryan yell in the other room.  
“And I told you not to fuck my employees!” Mr. Smith barked back.  
“You’ve got like a hundred employees, what does it matter to you if I fuck one?”  
“Because there’s thousands of people in Miami that do not work for me and I’m sick of you always picking the ones that do, because then, all of a sudden, it’s my responsibility to make sure they don’t talk shit about you and go to the press.”  
There was a brief silence, before Mr. Smith spoke again, “Those guys are poor nobodies from small places, Ry. They want your fame, not you. I just don’t want you to get hurt again, like you did with Gabe.”  
Ryan replied something, that was too quiet for me to hear, but minutes later they exchanged goodbyes and the front door opened and shut.

“Good morning,” Ryan chirped when he walked back into the bedroom and noticed my awake state.  
I didn’t bother to play nice with him, too many things were on my mind that I needed Ryan to clarify and get rid off. “Who’s Gabe?”  
Ryan sighed and sat down on the bed beside me, “Some summer fling I had last year. It ended pretty badly and I was kind of a mess for a while after that.”  
“That’s it?” I asked in disbelief, because I was sure there was more to the story than Ryan was admitting to.  
“That’s all there is to tell,” Ryan assured me, but I could tell he was lying.  
I let it slide, for now anyways, since I had more questions for him. “What about the other Newbies? Are you just fucking me, because I work for Mr. Smith?”  
“Can you please stop calling him Mr. Smith? It sounds so formal and makes me think of a stuck up business man.” I had to bite my tongue right then to avoid telling Ryan what kind of an asshole I thought his best friend was. “And Spencer was exaggerating, I do not have sex with JUST his employees. And when we met I didn’t even know you worked here.”  
“So what is this whole newbie thing to you? Just a convenient sex buddy system with people you’ll never see again in your life?”  
“Pretty much, yeah,” Ryan smirked at me, but I kept the frown on my face, “Oh, come on Brendon, I literally told you this when we met. You’re here the whole summer, I’m here most of the summer, we can appreciate our shared location place, without the false sense of hope and delusional promises of forever. Let’s just enjoy these few months without tying ourselves to each other.”


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days went by in a blur. Ryan and I had mind-blowing sex every night. However, I was disappointed that he never came down again to watch me play at dinner. Overall, the only time I really saw Ryan was in his suite. We were never together in public, except for the first day that we met. We didn’t talk about personal things either. For instance, when Ryan had asked me more questions about Danvers, instead of telling him about my friends and family back home, I told him about the Salem Witch Trials that had occurred way back when there. In turn, Ryan describe to me Las Vegas and the numerous casinos and nightclubs it offered. Not once did he mention his parents to me.

I always stayed overnight with Ryan after we had sex, but tonight, I felt him nudge my shoulder when I tried falling asleep. “Get up,” he murmured sleepily and I turned around to face him. “Jesus fuck relax,” Ryan laughed at my shocked expression, “I’m leaving for LA in a few hours and I still need to pack my bags.”  
“I can stay and help you,” I offered.  
Ryan ruffled my already messed up sex hair, “You helped me enough tonight.”   
I pouted, not wanting to leave Ryan’s presence just yet. “How long are you away for?”  
“A week, I think. Might stay longer though.”  
“Can you even function this long without having sex?” I asked cheekily, and Ryan chuckled in response.   
“I’ll make sure to sext you, if the newbies in LA don’t do their job right.”  
I felt the color in my face draining. Sure, I was fully aware that Ryan and I were just fuck buddies, with no feelings or strings attached. I was his current newbie, and for some naïve reason I had thought I was his only one. But apparently, Ryan had enough people to meet his sexual needs in every city.   
“What’s wrong? Is it like, against your religion to sext people?” Ryan said with fake concern. I had made the mistake of telling him about my family being Mormon, and ever since, Ryan wouldn’t stop teasing me about it. This had very quickly led to me not revealing anything too relevant in my life to Ryan. The fact that he had done even less sharing made me feel slightly better about acting so closed-off some times. But conversations with Ryan were either full of dirty talk, or about his modeling career and his celebrity friends (who really weren’t his friends considering how he mostly just complained about them).  
“No, I just didn’t realize there were other people you were fucking besides me.” I told him truthfully, because what was even the point in lying?   
“Are you being serious?”   
I nodded and the amusement on Ryan’s face vanished. He flung himself at me on the mattress, his hands resting on each side of my head, while he hovered over me. Ryan’s eyes locked with mine, our noses almost touching. The seconds passed excruciatingly slow, before Ryan dipped in to kiss me.  
“You’re special, Brendon.” Ryan muttered against my lips, “But not special enough to stop me from what I’ve been doing my entire life.”  
He pulled away from me and I watched as his cat-like body roamed across the room, grabbing shirts and beauty products here and there and throwing them all in a black suit case.   
“You better get going,” Ryan said, when I remained sitting on the bed, “Spencer should be here in a few minutes and I doubt you want to run into him.”  
I jumped off the mattress and wrapped my arms around Ryan’s tall frame.  
“You’ll miss me,” I told him, inhaling his musky scent one last time before I let go. 

Instead of looming around alone in my bed the next night, I decided to call Dallon and ask him to hang out. There was a pool party happening at the hotel and initially I had wanted to try and convince Ryan to go with me, but seeing as he was off in LA fucking whomever, I was more than happy to go with Dallon.  
By the time I had finished work and changed into swim shorts, the party was already in full mode.   
“Lots of people here,” Dallon noted and I nodded in amazement. It was straight up a “Rich kids celebrating spring break” scene. Hundreds of hot girls in skimpy, or no bikini top at all, were splashing around in the pool with guys whose body and face could easily be turned into a Ken doll.   
“So what are the rules?” Dallon asked me and I raised a confused eyebrow. “Like, if I get drunk to a point where I’m off having sex with a girl, you gotta intervene.”   
“You’re not planning on getting lucky tonight?” I teased him.  
Dallon shook his head and send me a sheepish smile, “I only get lucky with boys.”  
If Dallon hadn’t caught me by surprise by straight-up telling me he was gay, I was definitely shocked when he went straight to the bar and started playing drinking games with the most attractive guys present.

“Hey hottie,” some girl purred into my ear and I could smell the alcohol coming out of her mouth. Her boobs were bouncing excitedly up and down and I grinned at her. Finally, someone other than Ryan Ross showed interest in me. I was enjoying this party already.   
I ditched the girl, not wanting to settle this early yet, and explored the pool and ended up joining a game of water volleyball. All this time, I kept an eye out to check if someone who was even slightly unattractive was at the party. I couldn’t find anyone, and instead, tried my best to keep watch on Dallon, who was pleasantly drunk by now and making out with one of the Ken’s. 

Time passes by much faster than you’re used to when you’ve got a handful of shots of Jameson in your system. Soon, people were leaving with their fuck buddy for the night and Dallon, too, had left with some guy. I, for some fucking reason, was still playing with the plastic balls in the pool instead of real ones.   
“I better get back home,” Jon, my new volleyball friend, told me with a seductive wink, “Why don’t you join me?”  
I looked at Jon’s bare upper body, he was shorter than me and much bulkier. His face was handsome too, with a scrubby beard and soft, brown eyes. In other words, Jon was fucking hot and not for a second would I have considered to decline his offer if he had asked me a month ago.   
“Maybe some other time.” I heard myself say, and just what the fuck did I think I was doing rejecting a more than fantastic lay?  
“Suit yourself.” Jon replied with no bitterness in his voice and left.   
I too went home alone shortly after.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryden Smut 2.0

It was the middle of July, when Ryan returned to Miami. By this time, I had already started to think he would never come back again to see me. He had never asked for my phone number and never offered to give me his. Which had led me to creating various, movie-worthy scenarios of how Ryan would let me know of his return. In reality, however, it wasn’t all that spectacular.

I was watching TV in my room after work, when the hotel phone rang.  
“Hello?” I answered.  
“Brendon, hey.” Ryan’s smooth, godlike voice came out the receiver.  
“Oh wow, you actually came back.”  
Ryan chuckled, “Did you miss me?”  
“Tremendously. Cried myself to sleep every night.” I made sure he could hear the rolling of my eyes through the phone.  
“Excellent. Why don’t you come up and I’ll replace your cries of emptiness, with cries of feeling too full?”  
“Eager to see me, Ross?” I mocked him.  
“Well, it’s been what? A week, since the last time we fucked?” Two, I quietly corrected him in my head, “All the newbies in LA are complete sluts and stretched out. You can’t blame me for missing a perfectly tight asshole.”  
“Do you honestly think I didn’t have sex while you were gone?” I asked, trying to sound offended, even though he was right.  
“Of course you didn’t,” Ryan laughed, “You might look like a fuckboy, but you’re definitely not one of them.”  
“Is that a compliment?”  
“Do I need to compliment you to get into your pants?” Ryan countered.  
“Yep.”  
“Then it’s a compliment.”  
With that he hung up, and I quickly brushed my teeth before leaving my room and meeting Ryan.

“You’re not in your suit,” Ryan stated when he let me into his suite.  
“No shit, Sherlock. Nice to see you too.”  
Ryan smiled at me cockily and pulled me in for a kiss, that quickly processed into a make out session.  
I tried to stir us towards the couch, but Ryan wouldn’t move. Maybe he wanted to have sex against the wall, I thought excitedly and started to unbutton my jeans. Ryan must have noticed the fiddling of my hands between our crotches and pulled away; probably to do the same to his pants.  
“Let’s go for a walk,” Ryan suggested instead, and I grudgingly pulled my pants back up. What the fuck, Ryan? My half-hard dick screamed in disappointment.

We waited in silence for the elevator to arrive. Ryan stood a few feet away from me and I was puzzled at the sudden distance. I knew Ryan wanted to keep our relationship (whatever kind it was) private, but I started to wonder what exactly Ryan would tell the media if they ever caught wind of us together. The lack of conversation between us tempted me to break it and ask. However, I managed to keep my mouth shut and buried my hands deeply into my pockets, scared that I would otherwise reach for his hand and give in to the physical contact I was so desperately craving, and Ryan, at this moment, obviously rejected of.  
The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. Five other people were in the lift with us. I went in first and stood on their right side, Ryan went to their left. I didn’t understand why he was so stupidly cautious and unapproachable all of a sudden. After all, Ryan’s suite had its own button on the elevator, so naturally, people would assume we were indeed together, platonic or not.  
But when we arrived in the lobby, Ryan still acted as if he was unaware of my presence. He darted straight to the exit and I strolled reluctantly behind. If this was Ryan’s idea of taking a walk, I preferred going back to my own room, with or without Ryan. It was dark and cold outside, the sand that absorbed the sun’s heat during the day, felt cold and dead under my feet. I was freezing, horny, and most of all, confused. 

“Why are you so ashamed of me?” I finally blurted out, when we were out of sight and earshot of the handful of teenagers that still hung around the otherwise desolated beach.  
“I’m not ashamed of you.”  
“You know that most people won’t just assume we’re fucking if they see us together, right?”  
“I think that depends on HOW they see us together,” Ryan argued and finally looked at me. The moon was just bright enough for me to see the mischievous smirk on his face.  
“Oh yeah?”, my dick had an idea where Ryan was going with this and it told my brain to shut up, “Can you give me an example?”  
“Hmm,” Ryan hummed in faux-concentration, “I’m fairly certain that if someone were to walk by us in the next, let’s say 30 seconds or so, and they saw your naked body pressed against this palm tree, fucking my mouth, they MIGHT consider the possibility of us fucking.”  
“And then what?” I breathed, my dick perking up with interest.  
“Then we’ll prove ‘em right.”

Next thing I knew, Ryan had yanked all clothes off of my body and I felt the roughness of the palm stump rubbing against my bare ass and shoulders. Ryan’s knees fell into the sand and his fingers were digging into my inner thighs, spreading my legs wide enough for him to push his head in between them and wrap his mouth around my aching-to-be-touched cock. His right hand slid over my skin and towards my balls, and I felt his left one beginning to stroke the underside of my dick.  
“Oh fuck,” was all I managed to heave, when Ryan stopped swirling his tongue around me and dipped it into my slit.  
The trees hid away the light of the night sky and I could only make out the outline of Ryan’s still fully clothed body. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the trunk, imagining I could see Ryan’s cheek hollowing and watch my length disappearing more and more into his hot mouth. I felt his lips on my base, and a loud moan erupted from my vocals when I realized Ryan was deep throating me.  
I tried to control the movements of my hips, keep them as still as possible, until I remembered Ryan had told met to fuck his mouth earlier. I began thrusting into him at a fast pace. The placid sound of the ocean waves washing onto the shore was drowned out by the sloppiness of the blowjob. Loud slurping noises filled the air, mixed with low groans, and spit being pushed around on my cock by Ryan’s tongue.  
I bit back a moan when Ryan started sucking the tip of my head. The cold breeze hit the rest of my slicked cock, which only enhanced the heat of Ryan’s mouth on my sensitive skin. With every flick of his tongue, I felt the pressure in me building up.  
I gasped out a faint “Close”, before the orgasm rippled through me. My hips jerked one last time and Ryan removed his lips, but not before a few cum shots landed on his cheek and chin.

“Next time, give me more than a second before your jizz lands all over my face.” Ryan complained and tried to brush it away with his hand.  
I was still slightly out of it when Ryan pulled me closer to him, away from the tree, and dug his fingers inside my ass. I felt the wetness around my hole and – when the fuck had Ryan had the time to put lube on them?  
“It’s your come,” he told me, and the thought of Ryan stretching me with my own fucking sperm almost caused my flaccid cock to become painfully hard again.  
While Ryan was busy penetrating my hole, I was trying my damn hardest to locate the button and zipper of his pants and undress him. My eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness engulfing us, that I could make out more of his features. Still, I was pleasantly surprised when Ryan had located my asshole spot on. Speaking of spot:

“Fuck, right there,” I cried out when one of Ryan’s fingers brushed over my prostate. I could feel his arm twisting between my legs when Ryan changed the angle of his hand and started rubbing my gland.  
“I’m ready,” I tried to make it sound like a statement, but it came out as more of a plea. Ryan only chuckled, and continued to scissor me for another perpetual, few minutes. I finally managed to get Ryan’s jeans off him and was about to give him a handjob (and get my mind to stop thinking about how he was still fucking massaging my prostate). But Ryan’s fingers withdrew right then and he stepped away from me before I had the chance to touch his hard dick. Unlike the rest of Ryan’s skin that was perfectly tanned form endless hours spend in the sun, his penis was just as pale as I was and the white color of it glistered in the dark.  
“Scream if there’s a bug crawling over your body,” Ryan purred and pulled me away from the tree and onto the cold, soft sand.  
Ryan’s cotton shirt was warm and inviting on my chilly and exposed chest. Some teenage girl was cackling loudly in the distance and another guy yelled something to her. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, because Ryan suddenly pushed in me and my ears were filled with our groans.  
The thrusts were sharp and precise. He must have memorized the exact location of my prostate, because he kept hitting it dead-on. I had too much difficulties keeping still, and began meeting him in the middle. Our hips slammed against each other, adding yet another filthy sound into the disruption of a peaceful night.  
Ryan must have felt the poking of my hard on in his abdomen, because his hand wrapped around my cock only seconds later. His strokes followed a different rhythm than his thrusts, and it threw me off completely. I was gasping and overwhelmed by every single touch.

Ryan’s movements became more frantic and I could tell he was close.  
“Can I…?” Ryan rasped and I was confused at his question, until I realized we hadn’t used a condom.  
“Yes.”  
Ryan let out a sinful moan before he came inside me. I had never had unprotected sex before, and the new feel of warm cum inside my ass caused me to go over the edge as well.  
“Shit,” we both heaved, trying to calm down our rigid breathing and beating hearts.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter of fluff

“You’re clean, right?” I made sure to ask when we made our way back to the hotel.  
“Of course,” Ryan huffed, “I got the results back yesterday if you want proof.”  
I declined his offer. “I’m clean too.”  
“I know,” Ryan smirked, “Spencer told me.”  
“But that was weeks ago! I could’ve gotten something since then.” I argued for the sake of arguing.  
“But you just said you were clean. Did you get tested too?”  
“Well, no.” I admitted and Ryan laughed.  
“No wonder you came so quickly then. Two weeks of being celibate? I’m sorry for all those people you turned down.”  
I shoved Ryan playfully in the shoulder. The only person I had rejected was Jon, and he had been pleasantly drunk when he had offered. No one else in Miami had showed any interest me since then, and I caught myself constantly checking myself out in the mirror, to make sure I didn’t have anything on my face or an enormous sunburn on my skin that made me so unwanted. 

We arrived at the hotel and managed to get into an empty elevator together. I was unsure if Ryan wanted me to leave, or stay with him. I waited for him to tell me, but Ryan only pressed the button going up to his suite.  
“Keltie’s throwing a party tomorrow night,” Ryan finally broke the silence between us.  
“Are you going?”  
“I have to,” Ryan sighed, “which sucks, since I won’t get to see you until next week.”  
The surprise on my face must have been obvious, because Ryan continued: “It’s Bikini Swim Fashion Week in three days, Brendon. I can’t model with swollen lips and hickeys all over my body.”  
“Why not?” I asked, because I imagined a thoroughly fucked Ryan on the catwalk, and it was a pretty hot in my opinion.  
“Because not everyone is lucky enough to see this side of me,” Ryan winked at me.  
“Exactly, so why not make them think that they are?”  
“And take the sex appeal modeling is all about, to the next level?”  
I nodded and Ryan made a thoughtful face, one I rarely got to see on him.  
“You know what? You might actually have a point there. I’m gonna call my manager and see what he can do.”  
With that, Ryan pulled out his phone and began babbling on and on about the idea. I was too stunned about the fact that Ryan had actually taking me serious, to listen in on their conversation.  
The elevator stopped, and Ryan opened up the door to his suite and signalized me to come in. I willingly did so, and Ryan motioned to the gigantic TV screen in the main living area, before he disappeared in what I assumed the office room was.  
I flung myself on the leather couch and turned on the TV. Disney Channel came up playing Aladdin and I didn’t bother switching to another channel.

By the time Ryan snuggled next to me on the sofa, the film was almost over.  
“It’s happening,” Ryan grinned, “And I told them it was your idea, so you’re getting free entrance to the whole show as a thank you.”  
“No VIP?” I teased  
“Sorry, no. But I can introduce you to some hot models if you want, although I can guarantee you that none of them are as sexy and fabulous in bed as me.”  
I rolled my eyes and rested my head on Ryan’s shoulder, “I bet Aladdin is really good at sex.”  
“Of course he is. Have you seen how fucking flexible he is?”  
I hummed in agreement, “Makes you wonder what he’s hiding underneath those pants.”  
Ryan wrapped his arm around me and pulled me down onto the couch until we were both laying down on it.  
“You missed me,” I noted playfully, when Ryan started trailing kisses down my neck.  
“Well, you ARE currently my favorite newbie.”  
I felt some sort of pride at his statement, even though I knew I shouldn’t. Ryan had basically just told me that out of all his random fucks with non-famous people, I was temporarily the best. Which also completely excluded all the other fuck buddies he probably had with celebrities.  
“Have you had sex with more models or designers?” I found myself asking him out loud and felt the vibration of Ryan’s chuckle against my back.  
“Designers. I don’t like models too much. They’re all kind of arrogant and demanding, selfish pricks.”  
“No wonder you’re the best model then,” I mocked him.  
“Shut up.”  
“You’re so demanding.”  
Ryan pushed me off the couch and I landed on the soft carpet.  
“Your floor is softer than my mattress, and I think you should complain about that to Mr. Smith.” I commented, because it was true. The SJS Hotel was supplying every employee with a single room, but it made sure that those rooms were the shittiest in the entire building.  
“Feel free to sleep on the floor, if you like it so much.” Ryan teased me, but it sparked another idea in my head.  
“We could have an indoor tent!”  
“A what?”  
I rolled over to look at Ryan, “Y’know like an indoor camping thing. Where you get a bunch of blankets and drape them over chairs and make a fort?”  
Ryan’s face lit up with recognition, “Oh, I think I did a photoshoot like that when I was little.”  
“But not in real life?”  
“Nope, I didn’t know it was an actual thing people do.”  
Not for the first time, was I amazed by how different Ryan’s and my life were.  
I abruptly stood up. “We’re building one.”

Without waiting for Ryan’s answer, I went to use the hotel phone to call the receptionist and ordered five blankets and two flashlights.  
Once the materials arrived, I instructed Ryan what had to be done. I expected him to refuse and make me do everything, but to my surprise, he immediately started working. With the use of some stools, that we took from Ryan’s minibar, and the gigantic chandelier lamp, we were able to make a decent, stable fort. 

“That’s pretty cool, actually,” Ryan admitted and his eyes were big and shiny with childish excitement.  
“Here,” I handed him one of the flashlights, “I’ll go grab us some pillows and turn the lights off.”  
When I came back, Ryan was already sitting cross-legged underneath the tent and was playing with the flashlight.  
“Did you do this a lot when you were little?” He asked when I crawled in next to him.  
“Not really. My siblings and I just did it in the summers when we didn’t have enough money to go to an actual camping ground.”  
“How many siblings do you have?”  
“Four. Two older brothers and two older sisters.”  
“So, you’re the baby,” Ryan smirked, and pulled the flashlight under his chin like he was about to tell me a horror story. His face was too innocent looking for the purpose, which only made it appear extra creepy.  
“Stop that,” I told him and tried to grab the flashlight away from him.  
“Don’t tell me you scared,” Ryan teased. I wasn’t afraid, it was just disturbing and reminded me of band camp.  
“You went to band camp?” Ryan snickered and I took the opportunity to steal his flashlight. “I never went to any summer camps. What was it like?”  
He was totally setting me up for me to say it, but I didn’t mind and played along. “Well, this one time at band camp….”  
Ryan snorted with laughter and the sound of it was too fucking adorable that I couldn’t help but join in.

I began telling him stories about the camping trip we took one year, driving across the border to Quebec. Ryan listened attentively, asking questions every now and then until I heard his breathing against my chest slowing down and becoming more even. His mouth was slightly agape and his eyelashes appeared to be even longer with his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful then and I wanted to fight my own sleep, because it indicated that our night together was almost over. We wouldn’t have sex until after the Fashion Week and I doubted that Ryan wanted to spend much time with me outside of his suite during the wait. The thought stirred up an unwanted feeling inside me, and I decided that maybe sleep wasn’t all that bad if it got my brain shut up.


	10. Chapter 10

The Fashion Week venue was loud and stuffy. I felt completely out of place around the hundreds of designers, photographers, and models that seemed to make up 99% of the attendance. I began to think I was the only person there that didn’t care too much about fashion.  
“Brendon?” Someone called my name behind me and I spun around to see who it was. Dallon waved and motioned me to come over to his circle of friends. All of them were well over six feet tall and wore the same attire.  
“You’re a model?” I asked him surprised. Although now that I had thought about it, Dallon being a model should have been an obvious assumption, considering his striking physique.  
“Part-time,” Dallon grinned at me, “Not that I get paid for this week. But I’m in eight shows this year, so hopefully I’ll catch the eye of some bigger designers.” He winked at me playfully and I already felt more at ease with him around.

I was glad that Dallon was here. He introduced me to his friends and we all hung out together until the models had to go backstage and get ready. Since Dallon was only in a few show, I decided to stay around and watch. I had already seen a couple of Ryan’s shows and didn’t mind missing the next one for Dallon’s. Ryan, being the most famous model here present, was after all featured in over twenty shows, and I was almost certain that unlike Dallon, Ryan was getting paid for every single one.  
The music blasting through the venue changed and the conversations between people died out as their focus shifted to the stage on which Dallon appeared on. He was wearing pink speedos, a surfer’s necklace, and nothing else. His hair was styled in a messy, I-just-got-out-of-bed kind of way and he was looked pretty fucking hot right then.

Once the show was over, I tried to find Dallon again. However, I was too short to look over the sea of people and couldn’t spot him anywhere. I gave up after a while and figured I might as well go back to watch some more shirtless Ryan Ross displayed in the other venue.

The designer who had agreed to do the post-sex appearance was called Jac, and her line was scheduled to start in a few minutes. The set-up of her show was dark and gave off a sexual vibe that was almost tangible. I headed to the bar, figuring that if I was about to see a covered-up-in-hickey’s Ryan, I needed to be more relaxed to keep it together in my pants.  
The lights over the audience’s heads dimmed when I started sipping on my martini, and it caused the stage glow. The first model appeared on stage, her curly blond hair was a tousled mess, and small, red marks covered her otherwise flawless skin. It was fucking hot and the people around me audible gasped in surprise. More and more hot boys and girls modeled Jac’s line and I was getting steadily harder with each new model. Ryan was the last one to go on stage, like the cherry on top of an already irresistible cake. My sexual desire that I thought wouldn’t get any worse, was tripled the moment I caught sight of Ryan in black swimming trunks. His hair was fucked-up in a sense that you wanted to card your hand through it and ruffle it up even more. His mouth was redder than usual and small scratches were on his upper arm. There was a trail of hickeys that traveled all the way down to his prominent hip bones, and if all that didn’t get my cock to react painfully enough, the smirk that was plastered on Ryan’s face definitely did the job. It wasn’t his usual, amused smirk, but a smug one only a fuckboy would wear after he’d gotten successfully laid.  
The cameras were flashing like crazy. Ryan turned around then, and my mouth fucking fell open at the sight of his back. There was a noticeable hole in his shorts that exposed soft, pink flesh. It looked like someone had bitten the fabric off and you could actually see little teeth imprints on the bare area of his ass. I hoped to God that scissor and amazing make-up skills had created the image and not a human being, because right then, I wanted to be the only person able to leave evidence of sex on Ryan’s body like this. 

The show was over far too quickly, in my opinion anyways. But unlike Dallon, it was more than easy to spot Ryan in the assembled crowd. From what I could tell, everyone had loved Jac’s new clothing line, and photographers and journalists were surrounding her and Ryan, who was naturally by her side for publicity reasons. I grabbed another Martini before I went over to join the group.  
“Who gave you the hole in the shorts, Ry?” Some interviewer asked. Yes, Ryan, who fucking gave you that?, I thought, and tried to hear his answer over the loud noise of music, camera clicking, and chatter.  
“Everything showcased on the runaway today was Jac’s work,” Ryan said with a cocky grin, “she’s the one that makes sure our hair is fixed, and our appearance sexy.”  
Jac smiled sweetly, like Ryan hadn’t just told dozens of people that she had bit his ass.  
“Are you two dating?” Someone else asked. Ryan shook his head, but wrapped an arm around Jac’s tiny waist.  
“But tonight we are,” Jac replied and, even though she was already wearing six inch heels, she had to go on her tip toes to kiss Ryan on the lips.  
I was sure that Jac was only using Ryan to gain more fame, but I couldn’t figure out why Ryan was agreeing to it.  
Either way, I decided that I didn’t care. I left the venue and texted Dallon, hoping he was done modeling for the day. Thankfully, he replied only seconds later and invited me to go out to one of the nightclubs with him and a few friends of his who I had met earlier.

The club was crowded and I was convinced everyone around me was a fucking model. Dallon greeted some glamourous looking people and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, probably to make sure I didn’t get lost in the horde on our way to the bar.  
“So, what do you think of this place?” Dallon asked and handed me a shot of vodka.  
“Makes me feel short,” I muttered before I gulped the drink down in one go. Not that height mattered anyways. Jac was fucking shorter than me and Ryan didn’t seem to mind the height difference there. Maybe it was something else about her that made Ryan choose her over me. I took another shot to fuel my thoughts. Jac was gorgeous, I realized and ordered another drink. 

“Am I pretty?” I consulted Dallon, after I had pondered over the question for a good ten minutes.  
“Sorry, what did you say?”  
I tried again: “’’m ah prwdey?” Wow, I hadn’t realized I was this drunk. No wonder I was pining so much over Ryan fucking Ross: I was a sensitive drunk. If I were sober right now, I would be having fun, not thinking about Ryan, and flirting my ass off with Dallon.  
Dallon is fuckably hot too, some part of my brain reminded me. And yeah, I agreed with myself, he really was. And you don’t need to be sober to have sex with him, the Team Dallon area in my head continued. I didn’t need more persuasion than that and moved closer to Dallon. Except Dallon was busy talking to some guy with pink hair. Fuck off, I signalized to Pinky with a mean glare. I tugged on Dallon’s shirt and finally got his attention.  
“Can we leave?” I begged in a small, desperate voice, “I don’t like it here. There’s too many people.”  
Dallon’s eyes wandered over my body, checking me out. “Sure, let’s go,” he nodded and said goodbye to Pinkie-boy.  
I stood up from the bar stool and the world around me started to spin. “Woah,” I exclaimed and felt Dallon’s strong hands on my body. With Dallon steadying me, I started my courageous journey to the exit door. That was up until Dallon stopped my determined stumbling and picked me up, carrying me the rest of the way.

The cold air hit my face, and it must have done something to my stomach too, because I felt my insides pushing up my throat.  
“Lemme down,” I warned Dallon, and started puking as soon as my feet were back safely on the ground.  
“Feeling any better?” Dallon asked me worriedly and handed me a tissue to wipe my mouth with. I was surprised by how nice he was acting. If I had thrown up in Ryan presence, he would have laughed and called me a lightweight.  
“Thanks Dallon,” my voice was hoarse, but I hoped he could still hear the gratitude in it.  
“Of course. I’m the one that brought you here, so it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re not doing anything too stupid.”  
He successfully hailed a cab and climbed into the car after me.  
“Where to?” The taxi driver asked and Dallon told him an address that wasn’t the SJS Hotel.  
“My apartment,” he explained to my questioning look and pulled out another tissue from his pocket, “You still got some puke on your chin.” Instead of letting me wipe it off, Dallon reached over closer to me and started cleaning up my face.  
“As good as new,” Dallon grinned when he was done.

Dallon lived in a small apartment on the sixth floor. I had gotten so used to the hotel elevator, going up the endless steps of stairs made my legs fucking ache. I wondered if Dallon actually worked out, or if he just ran up and down his apartment building a lot.  
“I think my roommate’s asleep, so we have to be quiet,” Dallon whispered as he opened the door. He threw the keys on a tiny, wooden kitchen table and led me to his bedroom.  
The first thing I noticed was the ugly, green couch sitting in the corner. Across from it was a plasma TV and on the other side of the room stood Dallon’s bed and a small drawer. A few Dr. Who and Sherlock posters hung up on the wall, giving the whole room a more lived-in atmosphere.  
“Any preferences, Bren?” Dallon pointed at a stack of Blu-ray discs.  
“Uhh…” I stuttered, because why the fuck did he want to watch a movie? “What do you have?” Just as I asked the question, my eyes fell on a film that looked really out of place next to Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.  
“The Notebook, Dallon, really?”  
He shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly, “It’s a good movie. And the book is really sad.”  
I tried not to picture Dallon crying in the middle of a warm, sunny day over the ending of the Notebook. “Let’s watch it then, if it’s THAT brilliant.”  
Dallon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and I had to fully deny the fact I had ever watched a Nicholas Sparks movie.

“God, he’s hot,” I complained in lust over the perfection that was Ryan fucking Gosling, “Why is she rejecting him? Ungrateful bitch.”  
“Brendon, shut up or I will never watch a movie with you ever again.”  
I tried my best to obey Dallon’s wish, and was actually doing pretty well at being quiet, until the lake scene came up.  
“Ughhh, his body. It should be illegal for him to wear a shirt. Fuck, I’d go into the water with him. I’d fuck him in the water too.”  
Dallon just groaned in reply, but I knew he secretly agreed with me. Fuck the Notebook’s story being sad. Watching Ryan Gosling on screen, knowing you’ll never have him, was probably the reason why so many teens cried over that movie. It’s definitely why I cried.


	11. Chapter 11

“Ow, my head.” Was the first sentence coming out of my mouth the next morning.  
Dallon, thankfully, was feeding me painkillers and bagels as soon as he heard me.  
“I usually don’t get drunk after three shots,” I told him, trying to defend my manhood.  
Dallon scrunched up his face, “You had three shots times two.”  
Oh. Well that explained some parts of last night. 

“Mornin’,” A deep voice murmured and joined us at the kitchen table.  
“Jon?”   
The guy looked at me in confusion, until realization slowly dawned on him. “Bren, man! Don’t tell me Dallon stole you away from me.”   
He grinned and slapped Dallon playfully on the shoulder as if to congratulate him. Dallon, however, looked far from amused.  
“I didn’t know you two met already,” Dallon gritted through his teeth, emphasizing the ‘met’ like he really meant to say ‘fucked’. God, did Dallon have a crush on his roommate? What was wrong with people in Miami never crushing on me?  
“We’d better get going, Brendon, if we want to get to the show on time.” Dallon said and grabbed my arm, practically dragging me out of the building.

Once outside, he shook his head in frustration, “Jon’s a player, Bren. I hope you didn’t expect anything after you’ve slept with him.”  
“I didn’t sleep with him.”  
His face brightened, although some puzzled expression still lingered on it. “Ooops, sorry. With Jon, you just gotta assume that if he knows a handsome boy, it’s because he had sex with him. Jon’s a great guy, though.”  
I nodded in agreement, secretly noting he had called me handsome, and told him about how Jon and I had actually met. Dallon distinctly relaxed when I assured him Jon had gone home alone that night.  
“So, you don’t have to worry about me seducing him in front of you,” I concluded and teasingly grinned at Dallon.  
“What?” Dallon shrieked, “Me and Jon? Eww, no, that’s gross, we’re practically brothers.”   
“Then why did you get so jealous?” Was Dallon one of those over-protective, possessive friends? I really hoped not.  
His cheeks turned redder than any tourist’s sunburn, “I wasn’t. Oh, hey, look it’s a Starbucks! Let’s go grab some coffee!”  
Okay then, I thought, wondering just what the hell was going on inside Dallon Weekes’ head. I was curious, but if Dallon was buying me coffee to stop me from asking, I’d keep the cat alive.

The venue was just as hot and confined as it had been the day before. Dallon tried to convince me to stay around and watch some more fashion shows, but I determinedly declined. I was still bitter about Ryan telling me that we couldn’t have sex this week. I mean, he had basically thrown Jac in my face with a big fuck you, and I was constantly reminded of it with every picture of his face plastered on the venue walls. I didn’t need to see his assholeness in 3D. No, I was done with Ryan Ross. He had been a good waste of time while it had lasted, but I was done. Goodbye sex with a sex-god and hello, well, hand at the moment. 

I hit the beach and stared at hot people getting surfing lessons by a more-than-your-average-hot-person instructor. What the hell, I thought and signed up. 

The next day, I started to learn how to surf. Turns out, all you really need to do to get laid is carry around a fucking surf board. More people paid attention to me at the beach, than they did when I was performing at the hotel. What was happening to humanity? I thought as I rejected a semi-attractive girl asking me out for a drink.  
“Sorry, I gotta go hit the waves,” I winked at her and made my way over to my surfing instructor. My ego had grown a bit back after finally catching a girl’s attention. And sure, she was hot, but I had slept with one of America’s sexiest men alive for the past few weeks- my standards were at an all time high.

After my pathetic attempt at paddling for 2 hours and occasionally flirting with my instructor, I was still mentally ready to go search around the beach and, with the help of my surfboard, find a potential partner for the night. Physically, however, I was ready to fall asleep on the sand and never get up. My arms and shoulders and abs and legs and pretty much everything that made up my body was fucking aching. I seriously considered taking a day off of work, since even my fingers were sore.

Once the most exhausting day of my whole life, as I accurately labeled today, was over, I was finally in my bed and in the stage where it wouldn’t take much longer to fall asleep. My phone, of course, had to ring just then.  
“Mom, hey,” I forced myself to sound as cheerful as possible, while my eyes struggled to keep open.  
“Brendon, sweetie, finally. We haven’t talked in such a long time!” Mom complained, even though I had called her just a few days ago.   
She asked me how I was holding up, and I told her about Dallon, the Fashion show (leaving any mentioning of Ryan out), my newly discovered passion for surfing (which mom was totally against of since I could drown or get eaten by sharks), and, of course, how much I missed home. Sure, I was exaggerating a lot, making my Miami experience sound better than it actually was, but I did tell her about my body basically burning every time I tried to move. Mom sympathized greatly and just being pitied by someone made me feel a lot better. She also gave me a list of products that would help sooth my muscles. As we talked, I stole a glance at the clock and tried to stifle a yawn.   
“Well, I’d better let you have some rest,” Mom finally said after we had talked for over an hour and I had given up on pretending I wasn’t dog tired, “Goodnight Brendon, and keep me updated on your surfing lessons, so I don’t have to worry about you.”  
“I will,” I promised, “’night Mom, I love you.”  
“Love you too, sweetie.”


	12. Chapter 12

I hated surfing, I decided after another excruciating lesson of pure pain. William, my instructor, was telling me I was getting pretty good at it and I would soon be ready to actually surf, instead of just paddling around the water. His encouraging words were the only thing stopping me from quitting at this point.

The Fashion Week was finally over and I spent my afternoon going to the movies with Dallon, who didn’t seem at all upset about me ditching the rest of his shows, and even bought me popcorn.  
“Thanks for not talking through the entire movie like you did with the Notebook,” He mocked me after the film was over and we were sitting in his red little car on our way back to the hotel.  
“That’s probably because I slept through the entire thing. The movie was boring as fuck.”  
Dallon looked at me in complete horror. “How can a smart human being such as you are not posses the brain capacity to like this masterpiece?”  
“Did you just compliment or insult me?”  
“You’re lucky I’m still driving you home and not leaving you on the street.”  
“But then the monsters the professor dude in the movie made could attack me.”  
“They weren’t monsters, they were, ugh, never mind you’re hopeless.” Dallon gave up trying to transform me into a geek and I couldn’t help but grin.  
“You should be ashamed of your lack of knowledge,” he told me, catching the cheshire smile on my lips.  
“I really am,” I said in fake honesty, “Please teach me all the nerdiness you keep in that big, pretty head of yours.”  
Instead of replying, he turned the radio on.  
“Ouu I love this song,” I told him.  
“It’s boring as fuck,” Dallon repeated my earlier word choice, even though his hands had been drumming to the beat a second ago.  
I stuck my tongue out at him and began to sing along, and sure enough, Dallon joined in moments later. We karaoke-d the rest of the drive, shouting the lyrics, or singing extra high on purpose. Before dropping me off, Dallon warned me that we were going to watch Star Trek the next time we hung out, and I'd better not fall asleep then.

Just like I had the previous day, I headed straight to my bed after work, and just like yesterday, my phone started to ring, right when I was about to fall asleep.  
“Hey, it’s me,” Ryan managed to say before I wordlessly hung up on him.

I was dreaming about a gigantic octopus dancing on a surf board, when a knock on my door woke me up. I waited a few minutes in hope that whatever idiot was standing outside my door in the middle of the night would go away, but the knock was starting to sound like the beat of Smoke on the Waters and whoever was out there playing it, was just hammering against the door now.  
The instant I opened the door, Ryan picked me up and carried me back to my bed, kissing me passionately in the process.  
“I thought you’d come up to meet me,” He said when we were both laying on the mattress, him on top of me. There was hurt in his voice and it made me even angrier at him.  
“Well, you thought wrong.”  
Ryan, who had just been about to kiss me again, pulled back and looked at me with confusion, “You’re upset.”  
“Wow, aren’t you observant.”  
Ryan sighed and rolled away from me, our bodies not touching anymore. I immediately missed his warmth on me, even though my muscles had screamed at the extra weight pressed up on them.  
“Where did I fuck up this time?” He asked, staring at the ceiling. The fucker didn’t even bother looking at me anymore.  
“You didn’t. I’m just done sleeping with you.” I told him, not even sure myself if I was lying or telling him the truth.  
“Why?”  
“Because it didn’t work out. We’re just too different.”  
“Brendon,” Ryan began and placed a hand on my arm. I winced because he had managed to located the sorest spot in my entire body. Ryan’s eyes widened at my pained expression. “What happened? Did you get beaten up?”  
“What? No,” I swatted his hand away, “I’m just sore from surfing.”  
Ryan started laughing, “You? On a surfboard?”  
“Fuck off.”  
“Do you wear those wetsuits too?”  
I ignored him and turned away, trying to fall back asleep since Ryan wasn’t about to leave anytime soon.  
“Oh c’mon Brendon, don’t be such a bitch.”  
“Why not? You seem to like those.”  
“I don’t,” Ryan disagreed and wrapped his arm loosely around me, “I like you. And I need you to tell me why you’re upset so I can warm up some coconut oil and give you the message of a lifetime- release those stiff muscles that you’ve been building up.”  
“I don’t want a message,” I was definitely sure I was lying this time.  
“Why not?” He cooed in my ear, his hand on my shoulder kneading the tender tissue.  
“Because,” God, his hand felt miraculous.  
Ryan started nipping gently on my earlobe. “Because?”  
Yes, Brendon, because what? I had no idea why I was denying Ryan, other than me being a masochist, maybe.  
“I don’t know,” I admitted, and finally started to reciprocate the affection he was showing me.  
“If you don’t tell me, I can’t stop doing it and you’ll go back to being mad at me.” Ryan argued between kisses, which meant that his one sentence took almost a minute to be completed. Why couldn’t he just drop the subject and his pants with it?  
“You won’t stop doing it anyway.”  
Ryan smirked, “Try me.”  
“You fucked Jac.”  
And just like that, Ryan pulled away from me, astonishment clear on his face. “You want me to stop having sex with others?”  
I nodded, unsure what to say.  
“Brendon, don’t be stupid. Even you can’t be that jealous.”  
“I’m not jealous,” I claimed, “I mean, you said it yourself, we only have a couple months together, even less since you’re not in Miami all the time. So if you’re here and have the time to fuck, it should be with me.”  
Ryan was staring at me in disbelief. I was waiting for him to get up and leave, or start laughing and telling me that he was Ryan Ross and he would do whatever with whomever whenever he wanted. But instead, Ryan remained quiet. The silence between us dragged on to the point where it was becoming uncomfortable.  
“Okay,” he finally whispered and leaned in, re-attaching his lips to mine. 

If I had ever wondered what it would be like to have sex with Ryan on a mattress that was the quarter of the size of the one in his ginormous suite, I now knew. It was uncomfortable and limited. Even though Ryan had given me the promised massage, I was still sore, and the sex only added extra pain to my butt. 

Something was poking my stomach repeatedly. I woke up with a groan and felt the vibration of Ryan’s chuckle against my chest.  
“Mornin’ beautiful,” He grinned.  
“You woke me up.”  
“I did.”  
I tried to blink the sleep out of my eyes, “What time is it?”  
Ryan smirked, “Six.”  
“AM???”  
His smirk grew as wide as my eyes, “Yep. My sexual urges start early in the day, and since you’re the only option I’m allowed to have, I had no choice but to wake you. Unless, of course, you want to take back what you said yesterday, and I’ll call up a friend of mine and let you go back to sleep.”  
It dawned on me that Ryan had just played with me last night when he agreed to stop fucking around. “You’re an asshole,” I told him, but Ryan didn’t seem the slightest offended.  
“And you have an asshole, a very pretty one too. But I need a vagina and boobs combo right now, and you sadly don’t possess either.”  
“This isn’t funny.”  
Ryan’s smile fell, “I’m sorry Brendon. But you’re a newbie, nothing more, nothing less. And if you weren’t such a good sex partner I would drop you because you’re clingy as fuck.”  
“It’s not clingy if you enjoy the other’s company.”  
“You’re right. I do enjoy your company,” Ryan laughed and a strand of hair fell over his eyes, “But I’m not going to play boyfriend with you, Brendon.”  
It was in that moment that I realized what I wanted Ryan to be was leaning more towards an exclusive relationship than a fuck-buddy. “Why not?” I pouted, for lack of a better argument.  
“Because I’m famous and as soon as the media sees us together, you’ll only be known as Ryan Ross’ ex,” Ryan looked at me solemnly, “But you’re Brendon Urie. I’ve heard you perform and you’re pretty damn good. You don’t need me to get people’s attention.”  
“Jesus, I’m not gonna use you because you’re a fucking model.” I exclaimed, because Ryan wasn’t getting it, “I like you and I would probably still like you if you looked like a Proboscis monkey.” I mentally congratulated myself on that simile, because making references to random things always comes across as smart.  
“So what are you suggesting we should do?” Ryan asked.  
“Go on a date, hang out more than just to fuck, and, I don’t know, have a beach picnic?”  
“A beach picnic,” Ryan repeated like I was talking about going to Mars and watching Netflix with some aliens, “And why should I want to do all these things with you?”  
“Because it’ll only last until September. Worst case scenario, you wasted two months of your life and can appreciate being single through a new perspective. Best case scenario, we’ll have an awesome time and you can experience the agony of a break-up when I leave you and you’ll cry in Mr. Smith’s arms for a week.”  
“Yeah right,” Ryan huffed, “You’re not-“  
“Not what?” I asked when Ryan didn’t finish the sentence.  
“Never mind.”  
“Okaaay then. So when are you taking me out on our date?” I was practically bouncing on the mattress with excitement.  
“You’re the one who asked me out.”  
“Well, yes. But you’re paying for it, so you can choose.”  
“I thought you weren’t using me for my money,” Ryan grinned, “Can we call the kitchen and have a breakfast date at my cost? The show’s over, and I’ve been craving pancakes for the past week.”  
It was my turn to laugh at him, “This is a staff hotel room, they don’t deliver food into here. We can go to the buffet though; it should be open by now.”  
“Or we can go to my suite and order food there,” Ryan coaxed, but I shook my head.  
“You said I can decide where we’re going, and I wanna go to the buffet. I’ll even pay for it.”  
“Because it’s free!” Ryan groaned, and I winked at him.


	13. Chapter 13

“People are staring at me,” Ryan whispered when we entered the dining hall.  
“That’s because you’re the only idiot wearing sunglasses and a fucking hat inside.”   
We followed the usher who sat us in the very corner of the room, per Ryan’s request.   
“So what do we do now?” Ryan asked me, once we were seated.  
“We go up and get food.”  
“That’s stupid, we just sat down. Why can’t we just call a waitress?”  
“Because it’s a BUFFET, you get up, you get food, you eat, repeat.”  
Ryan scrunched up his nose, “So every time I want a cup of coffee, I need to walk ALL the way over there,” he pointed at the buffet, “and refill it?”  
“Yep. Come on, let’s go.”  
I headed for the egg and toast food warmers, Ryan following me like a toddler that refused to leave his mother’s sight.   
“Jesus fuck, how much do you eat in the morning?” He criticized me, when I added a few roasted potatoes on my plate and continued over to where the muffins were.  
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” I lectured him, but Ryan ignored me and tugged my shirt instead.  
“Can you just hurry up, so we can go get cereal?”  
“Why can’t you go yourself? People don’t bite.”  
“Just come with me,” he whined.   
“You’re so clingy,” I teased and Ryan stabbed me with my fork.

“No offense,” He said when we were finally back at our table, “But this date already sucks.”  
“Shut up and eat your fruit loops.”  
“I will, and then I’m getting pancakes with maple syrup.” Ryan smiled proudly, like he was an amateur criminal about to rob a bank.  
“You’re such a badass, all the other models will envy you.” I said sarcastically.  
“They already do.”  
“Well, if your food isn’t healthy, at least your self-esteem is.”  
“’I’ll keep that in mind.” Ryan grinned and stole my muffin.

After we finished eating, Ryan was heading straight back to the elevators. I grabbed him by the arm, “Nuh-uh, our date’s not done yet.”  
“See, this is why normal people go out for dinner and not breakfast,” Ryan told me with a slight annoyance in his voice, “so they can either have sex or get rid of that person.”  
“See,” I said, mimicking Ryan, “this is why I dislike normal.”  
“Well, what DO you like?” Ryan asked with a hint of flirtation in his tone.  
“Miami, that’s why we’re going outside and you’re gonna give me a tour of your favorite places.”  
“My favorite place is my suite upstairs.”  
I glared at him until Ryan sighed, “Fine, let’s go to Star Island then.”

“Don’t you have a limousine?” I asked Ryan when he hailed us a cab.  
“Limousines are just good for car sex.”  
“Oh,” I was very much intrigued by the visual image forming in my head.  
A devilish grin formed on Ryan’s lips, “But since you specifically said no sex, we might as well take a taxi.”  
“I meant sex in the hotel! Vehicles are fine.”  
“Maybe, you’ll get lucky on the way back if you behave.” Ryan held the door open for me and winked as I climbed into the backseat.

I was completely in awe of the mansion that we were about to enter. It looked like the party version of the White House, with the exception that instead of security guards, palm trees were decorated outside of the building.  
“Mr. Ross,” the man, who I assumed was the butler, greeted Ryan and led us through the house until we were outside once again, though this time we stood in the garden in front of a ginormous swimming pool.  
“What the hell?” Mr. Smith suddenly emerged out of the water. He was shirtless, in blue swimming trunks that matched his eyes. Water was still glistering on his well toned body. With the suit, he normally wore, off, his intimidating aura was gone too, and my brain wasn’t scared shitless enough of being in my bosses’ house uninvited, and it enabled me to notice just how attractive Mr. Smith actually was.  
“Hey Spence, Brendon wanted me to show him the best places in Miami, and well, your FABULOUS house naturally came to my mind, so here we are.” Ryan smirked and Spencer gave him a bitch face.  
“Thanks for letting me know this in advance,” Mr. Smith said sarcastically.  
“Oh, it was a spontaneous idea, really. By the way, is your bartender still here? I’ve been craving his margaritas for days.”  
And lo, Ryan went over to the bar a few yards away, leaving me alone with his best friend, who I was sure hated my guts as much as he wanted to rip them out.  
“So Brendon,” Mr. Smith began and I audibly gulped.   
“Yes, sir?”   
“How do you like Miami?”   
I wasn’t expecting small talk, but here I was, in a multi-million-dollar mansion, talking about the city, the weather, my recent surf lessons even.  
“Spencer surfs too,” Ryan popped up beside me, an empty margarita glass in his hand, “Maybe you two should go to Palm Beach together sometime.”  
“I’d love to,” I lied, smiling on the outside while I pictured Mr. Smith cutting me open with his surf board and feeding me to the sharks.  
“Sure, when I’m not busy doing more important things,” My boss agreed in a tone that implied there would never be such a time.  
“Great, I’m glad we all get along now.” Ryan grinned, and he must’ve had more than one margarita, because he actually sounded sincere.  
The butler approached us and waited for our attention, “Sir, your lunch is ready.”  
“Good, because I’m starving,” Ryan exaggeratingly rubbed his stomach and pointedly looked at Mr. Smith.  
“Yes Ryan, I’d love if it you could both stay for lunch. Maybe we can have dinner together too, and finish the day with a sleepover.” Mr. Smith was over-doing it with the sarcasm, in my opinion.  
“How kind of you to invite us, Spencer, but Brendon and I already have plans for tonight. Unless, of course, you want to join in.” Ryan raised a suggestive eyebrow and laughed at his friend’s horrified expression.  
“No thanks, I think I’m fine on my own.”  
“You sure? Because Brendon’s got this mouth, I mean, just look at that boy’s lips, they’re -“  
He was cut off by Mr. Smith’s disgusted groan, “Spare me the details.”  
“But,” Ryan argued in faux confusion, “Don’t you want to know what goes on in your hotel?”  
Instead of answering, Mr. Smith walked away from us and into his house.

“Why the fuck are we here?” I hissed at Ryan, as soon as my boss was out of earshot.  
“Do you want us to leave and go back to my suite?”   
“Yes!”  
Ryan smirked, “Now you know how I felt this morning after breakfast.”  
“Okay, that is so not the same scenario,” I began to protest, “You wanted to have sex, whereas I just want to get away from HIM.”  
“And maybe I wanted to get away from the rest of the world. But you’re so uncaring of how I feel, Brendon, it really hurts not just me, but our relationship as well.” Ryan tattled me. No wonder him and Mr. Smith were such good friends; they both communicated in pure sarcasm.  
“There’s a difference between being horny and feeling completely uncomfortable.”  
Ryan sighed, “Well, maybe if you at least tried to get to know Spencer, you’d actually like him. I don’t just sit in my room all day and wait for you to finish work, you know? I hang out with my friends, and if you want me to spend more time with you, you gotta hang out with them too.”  
I hated to admit it, but what Ryan said actually made sense. I couldn’t expect him to drop everything for me.   
“Are you other friends nicer than Mr. Smith, at least?” I asked him, remembering the first time I had met Ryan at Hugo Boss. He had been with some girl (Keltie?), and she’d had a bit of bitchy vibe to her.  
“Spencer’s just protective.”   
“But why? It’s not like I can hurt you in any way.”  
“Sure you can,” Ryan smiled sadly at me.   
I had no idea what was on his mind, or how to reply. But I decided very quickly that I didn’t like a heart-broken looking Ryan. At least with sarcastic Ryan, I had a way to respond.   
“Let’s just go get lunch.”

“This, uhm, food is delicious,” I had no idea what I was currently stuffing into my mouth, but at least I was trying to be nice to Mr. Smith.  
“Meh,” Was all Ryan said, while Mr. Smith remained wordless.  
“Are we still going to New York next week?” My boss finally said after a few minutes of awkward silence.  
“Of course,” Ryan replied and I looked at him in surprise.  
“You guys are going to New York,” I restated, just to make sure.  
“Yeah, Spence has a business meeting next, uh, Wednesday?” Mr. Smith nodded in confirmation, “And I have a show there in two weeks, so we’re gonna fly up together.”  
“Have you heard back from the architect, Ry?”   
“Yup, we talked on the phone a couple of times and he seems decent enough,” Ryan noticed the confusion on my face, and answered my unspoken question, “I’m redoing my house in the Hampton.”  
I managed to force out a unenthusiastic "cool", before Ryan and Mr. Smith started talking about floor plans and pools, while I was left to mull over the fact that Ryan was leaving me yet again. No wonder he had agreed to ‘date’ me; with the amount of days he was away, we might be able to squeeze in two or three more dates before I had to go home.

“Well, we’d better get going,” Ryan finally said after the longest lunch of my life, and I silently screamed Hallelujah at his words.  
“Right now?” Mr. Smith asked, “It’s rush hour, you’ll just be stuck in traffic.”  
Ryan grinned, “That’s the plan. Oh, and by the way,” Ryan turned back to Mr. Smith while I was already on my way out, “Can we borrow your limo?”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut, Pete, and more smut. Enjoy :)

Something wet and warm was pressed against my eyelids, and I grudgingly fluttered them open.  
“Mornin’” Ryan grinned, already hard and pushing up beside me.  
“You’ve got to stop waking me up like this.”  
“I think it’s a great way to start the day.”  
“Sure, but maybe delay it a couple hours so I can actually get enough rest to have sex,” I opened my mouth to yawn, but Ryan was quick to press his lips against mine and somehow managed to turn it into a moan.  
"You know, when I was little, I had photoshoots at like 5 am. And my dad always said to me: 'Ryan, get up. The early bird gets the worm.'"  
He stared at me expectantly, and I rolled my eyes. “What about the worm? If he’d stayed asleep, he would’ve lived.”  
“Or maybe the worm was the only one asleep, while all the other ones were awake and had time to crawl away when they saw the bird.”  
“Then they’re asshole worms for not waking him up and warning him.”  
“They might’ve gotten caught too, then. Sometimes you have to make a sacrifice to save yourself. And besides,” Ryan said with a smug, “I did wake you up.”  
“Are we in life-threatening danger?”  
“Yep. There’s lava on the floor actually, and if we touch it, we get burnt and die. I didn’t want you to accidentally roll off the bed and melt.”  
“You’re my hero!” I sighed dramatically and flung myself at him. I remembered playing Hot Lava when I was little, and after hiding in the woods and building a fort inside, Ryan had managed to destroy yet another innocent childhood memory of mine.  
“You know; the hero normally gets some kind of reward when he’s done a good deed.” Ryan probed me with his words, and his fingers that were circling around my hole.  
“Not if you’re Spiderman,” I argued, while arching my back to give him better access. We were both still completely naked from the night before, our bodies hidden underneath Ryan’s cum stained bed sheets.  
“Well, he got the girl.”  
“He did, but as Peter Parker, not Spiderman.”  
“Good point,” Ryan admitted, “Pass me the lube?”  
I did and Ryan, the early bird that he was, didn’t waste any time to push the first finger inside me. It was increasingly getting hotter under the blanket, the more Ryan stretched me open.  
“Hold on,” I muttered to him and pulled the blanket away from us, throwing it onto the lava floor. “Okay continue,” I grinned and Ryan eagerly added another finger.

“Ready,” I said after a few more stretching and Ryan pushed his cock inside me. His thrusts were slow and deliberate. I had to admit, I preferred this much more than sleep.  
Ryan’s hand wrapped around my cock and started pumping in rhythm with his hip movements. I moaned lustfully and pushed my ass back, trying to meet him in the middle.  
I threw my head back in pleasure, closing my eyes. Ryan definitely lived up to his sex-god name. I opened my eyes again to turn around and tell him this, when my attention was diverted to something else.  
“Get out of me.”  
“What why?” Ryan asked, his mouth hovering over my sweaty neck.  
“There’s a man in the door.” I felt Ryan lift his head and look up to see the short, dark-haired man in the room.  
“Ry, you’ve got a minute?” He asked, not bothering to maybe leave the room and wait for us to get dressed.  
“Sure, what’s up?” Ryan said, and why was he still thrusting into me when there was a stranger watching us?  
“Well, I’ve read through all the reviews of Jac’s show and…”  
“Who the fuck is that?” I hissed at Ryan. The guy continued talking like we were having a cup of coffee together.  
“Oh, that’s Pete, my manager. He’s straight, don’t worry.” Ryan told me, blunt and loud enough for Pete to hear. I looked at Ryan’s manager who had stopped his speech and was just observing us now. My eyes traveled downward to his crotch, just to make sure, and-  
“He’s growing a fucking boner!” I exclaimed exasperated.  
Even though Ryan’s hand was still wrapped around my cock, his own still pounding inside me, and Ryan was lovingly nuzzling my earlobe, he somehow found a way to move his leg up and kick me.  
“Shh, he’s not out yet,” Ryan hushed me, while I yelped at the small pain his kick had caused.  
“Get out,” I ordered again, to both Ryan and Pete. Ryan grudgingly obeyed and also removed his hand from my dick - that was becoming more flaccid anyway, the longer I felt Pete’s eyes trained on me. As soon as I was freed, I jumped up and grabbed the blanket off the floor.  
“You’ve really stretched him there.” I heard Pete comment, and my hand flew over my ass crack to cover up the exposed hole. I pulled the blanket not just over my body, but buried my face underneath it as well, to hide every part of me from this embarrassing situation.  
Ryan snickered, “Could you give us a moment, Pete?”  
“Sure.”  
Finally, I heard the door open and close again. Unfortunately, Pete had left just five billion traumatic memories too late. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Ryan said again, and tried to pull the sheet away from me, though I wouldn’t let him. My face was hot, and the last thing I wanted Ryan to see was how deeply I was blushing. But Ryan -smart boy that he was- lifted up the other end of the blanket and successfully crawled underneath it and settled between my legs. I felt his tongue on my belly button swirling around, before starting a trail of kisses upwards.  
“Do you realize just how awkward this was?” I complained, while Ryan sucked on my collarbone.  
“M’sorry,” Ryan mumbled, though his voice lacked any sign of remorse.  
“No, you’re not.”  
“Well, look at it this way,” He said and placed his palm on my chest, “Chances of you forgetting about this moment are very, very low.” And low was his hand, that had traveled downwards while he’d spoken.  
“What if I want to forget?”  
“Oh trust me,” Ryan’s smirk was dirty and his fingers wrapped around my base, “You want to remember what’s about to come.”  
Nice pun, I wanted to reply but all thoughts suddenly vacated from my brain.

Ryan slid his hand down, thumb swiping over the head. I felt the pressure of each fingertip as he pressed down and traced the vein on the underside. He was pumping my dick excruciatingly slow, and I was getting harder by the second. The blanket was still covering up our bodies, but I needed it off, needed to see Ryan’s long fingers traveling on my dick. Instead of dropping the blanket, however, I grabbed Ryan by his arms and rolled us over onto the floor. The sheet came down with us, entangled between our legs, although it didn’t cover up the most important parts. My dick was fully hard now, curled upwards and held by Ryan’s delicate hand. I watched as the foreskin glided over the glans. A wanton moan erupted in me and Ryan began cradling my balls, kneading them softly like he was trying to shape them perfectly round. I was still stretched and the last thing I wanted was for the prepping to go to waste.  
“Fuck mhm-ah,” I groaned, trying to suppress another groan so I could speak.  
“What?” Ryan twisted his wrist, changing the rhythm to a faster pace. Pre-cum was already glistering on my tip, but I didn’t want to come just yet.  
“Fuck me.” I finally managed to rasp.  
Ryan immediately let go. He sat up, his back resting against the bed frame, and spread his knees far apart from another. Then he grabbed me by my waist, pulling me into his lap.  
“Well, then, take a seat.” He whispered filthy, voice hoarse and stuttered breaths. I was facing the wall, not being able to see Ryan as he licked my spine upwards and towards my neck.  
The lube had fallen down onto the floor when we had, and Ryan grabbed it, slicking himself up once more. I pressed down on him, feeling the intensive burn as Ryan’s cock slid inside me.  
“God, you’re tight.” I heard him mutter. And I was, even though he’d been in me minutes ago, and we’d properly fucked just the night before. Ryan filled me up until my ass rested on his abs. I was still supporting myself with one hand on the floor, the other I wrapped around the back of Ryan’s head, twisting my body around so I could indulge him in a kiss. Ryan’s own hand was on my inner thigh, he placed the other one on my shoulder to stabilize our movements. I was hovering over him in our current position and his jaw rested against my shoulder bone as we deepened the kiss.  
Ryan began moving his ass off the ground. There was barely any rhythm to it, a few quick hip slams were followed by slow, deliberate thrusts. If I hadn’t wanted to come earlier, I NEEDED to get off now. As if he could read my thoughts, Ryan removed the hand from my thigh and went back to giving me a handjob.  
His fingertips danced over my sensitive skin, trailing a line here and there. His multitasking skills were honestly outstanding. I didn’t know how he could fuck, kiss, and touch me all at once in different places. But he did and sweat droplets fell off our bodies and decorated the floor.  
The orgasm was building up inside me and was almost reaching its peak. Everything was too sensational and I was trying my damn hardest to hold myself back. As if to prove me wrong, Ryan hit my prostate. Once. Twice.  
“Oh fuck,” I gasped. Warmth spread through me and I moaned shamelessly, before I let the come shoot through my cock and onto Ryan’s hand and my stomach.  
Ryan’s movements didn’t stop while my entire body jerked in his lap. He kept going, thrusting into me, hard and precise. Soon, I felt his hips stutter and his rhythm became sloppy.  
“Come for me,” I urged him. Ryan’s response was heavy panting; his breathing so loud, I swear it filled up the entire city. My hand found his chin, and I pulled him in for a heated kiss. God, I was still coming down from my orgasm and this was getting out of control.  
Ryan groaned again and the sound vibrated in my eardrums. He lifted his ass off the floor again, thrusting in me with such a force, even I went higher up in the air. Then the liquid started to fill inside me, all while Ryan moaned like a virgin whore. 

“We should do this again sometime,” Ryan nudged my shoulder playfully, after we were both well spent and our heartbeats had returned back to normal.


	15. Chapter 15

“Ready to take care of the other business now?” Pete grinned and shoved a magazine in Ryan’s arms.  
I was about to make my way to the door and leave the two alone, when Pete called me back. “We might need you for this,” he motioned me to sit down at the kitchen table and I took a chair next to Ryan.  
“We have to make a decision,” Pete continued, “Jac’s show was a hit and everyone now thinks that you’re a slut.”  
“I am,” Ryan smiled proudly and winked at me.  
“Yes, but last time I checked, you still had some standards and weren’t fucking everyone who threw themselves at you.”  
“What’s your point?”  
“That out in this world, young or old, girl or boy, big or small, pretty much everyone wants you, Ry. And now that you’ve shown them what you look like after sex, they’re going to think that you’re okay with showing them what you look like DURING sex, and they’ll have this false allusion that they have a chance with you.”  
“Which they won’t,” Ryan added.  
“Yes, so we have to act fast before they realize this and get bored with their fantasies. So, for starters, you gotta stop this little Newbie project of yours. We want fangirls with stories, not fuckbuddies that keep their mouths shut.”  
“Then why did you want Brendon to stay?” Ryan asked the question I was just about to voice myself.  
Pete stared at him in confusion and Ryan rolled his eyes, “He’s a Newbie too.”  
“Oh, sorry,” Pete apologized to me immediately, “I just kind of assumed you were an underwear model or something.”  
“Underwear?” Ryan repeated astounded, “I always thought he’d make a great glamour model.”  
Pete’s eyes traveled over my face and body, “Hmm, you might be right. But his ass is definitely made for briefs photoshoots.”  
“I feel very objectified right now,” I stated, slightly embarrassed as I remembered Pete’s earlier comment on my butthole.  
“Well, anyway,” he thankfully moved on and stopped staring at me, “You can either start seeing more regular people to keep the hype on your sex appeal up. Which would require you to pretend you’re down to earth and willing to go down on other down to earth people, or you can go steady and make your body off limits to the rest of them for a while. Either way, they’re going to want you even more.”  
“Why would they want me more if I’m in not screwing around? I mean, wouldn’t that like lower their chances of ever being with me?”  
Pete shook his head, “No, because the more adorable and cute your relationship is, the more people will picture themselves on that picnic blanket they see you on, instead of you and Brendon. Their fantasy hook up will turn into a fantasy relationship. Sure, they will hate Brendon for having the real you, but jealousy is the best publicity.”  
“Why do I have to be his public boyfriend? Shouldn’t Ryan date someone famous?” I asked out of sheer curiosity. I’d personally be happy to help out with their plan if it included a picnic date on the beach with Ryan.  
“Well I did mistake you for a celebrity at first. But it works even better if you’re just a regular person, ‘cause it will get people’s hopes up even more.”  
“That seems a bit cruel.”  
“That’s business.”  
Ryan nudged my shoulder, “You okay with this?”  
I imagined myself on a red carpet with Ryan, seeing pictures of Ryan AND me in the gossip magazines, and yes, I was 100% sure I was okay with this.  
“Great,” Pete beamed as soon as I agreed to his plan, “You’ll fly up with Ryan to New York next week. You can help him remodel his house and maybe hint at you two planning on moving in together. Ryan can show you around the city while the paparazzi’s take lots of pictures of you two lovebirds.”  
“I can’t go to New York. I have to work,” I argued. As much as I wanted to go with Ryan, I did have some responsibilities here in Miami, and I was positive Mr. Smith was still looking for a reason to get my ass kicked out of the hotel.  
“Take a couple of weeks off.”  
“It’s a summer job.”  
“So what?” Pete persisted.  
“I wouldn’t get paid, and Mr. Smith would fire me.”  
Ryan sighed, “If money’s the issue, I can pay you.”  
I blushed furiously at his offer, “I don’t want your money.”  
“Then you,” Pete intervened and pointed at Ryan, “talk to Spence and get him to agree to give Brenny-boy a few days off. And you,” Pete’s finger moved to my face, “will visit Ryan in New York next week and it will be a short, romantic get together. Okay?”  
“Okay,” I muttered. When I had gotten the job at SJS, I had calculated all my earnings and how much of it would cover my tuition fee for next September. Now, I was trying to estimate how much money I would lose over New York and was deciding whether or not Ryan was worth it. My mind shook its own head at this thought, of course he was.  
“Perfect!” Pete exclaimed in excitement, “Now you two go out and play boyfriends while I take care of the rest.”  
He hushed us out of the suite and I stood forlorn in front of the elevator. 

“What do we do now?” I asked Ryan, who grabbed my hand to hold.  
He sent me a rascal smirk, “Now we can pretend to like each other.”  
“Oh god,” I exclaimed dramatically, “I don’t know if my acting skills are good enough for that.”  
“Hey, I’ve got the harder role to play!”  
“Why’s that?”  
The elevator pinged open and Ryan gently pushed me inside. “Well, you see, I’m a pretty likeable guy,” I snorted at this, “I’ve got the looks, the luxury, the fame, the charm, the-“  
“Ego, the brattiness, the snobbism,” I began to make my own list, because Ryan seemed to just keep going on with his.  
“I was told to embrace my flaws at a young age,” Ryan pouted offended.  
“And lucky for you, I grew up learning to tolerate the flawed,” I stuck my tongue out at him and Ryan rolled his eyes.  
“At least you don’t have to date a nineteen-year-old child,” he muttered.  
“I’m cute and funny, and adorable, and not to mention incredibly hot and sexy,” I began, making sure Ryan knew just how wonderful I really was.  
“And short and immature and literally on a sugar high all the time,” he teased as the elevator door opened up to the lobby.  
“So where are we going?” I asked, changing the topic because Ryan seemed to not appreciate my awesomeness enough.  
“Out into the world so I can show your apparent hotness off to the media.”  
“Aren’t you scared I’ll steal your spotlight?”  
“Nope, just make sure I’m in the pictures too.”  
“I’ll see what I can do,” we both grinned at each other and Ryan pulled out two pairs of sunglasses from his pocket, handing me one of them.  
“Now you’re a real celebrity,” he gushed and ruffled my hair up with the same affection as one would pet their favorite dog.  
“You’re right, I see everything in a darker light already.”  
I didn’t have to look at Ryan to know he was rolling his eyes at my (amazing) pun. I seriously needed to teach him a sense of humor that wasn’t solely made up of sarcasm.  
“So where’s our second date going to be?”  
“I was thinking Spencer’s office. It has a really nice view of the city.”  
I stopped moving and put both my hands on my hips in an indignant manner.  
“Relax, I was joking,” Ryan said, “we’re going on that beach picnic since you can’t shut about it anyways.”  
Ryan grabbed my hand again in a weak attempt to stop me from skipping all the way to the ocean.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shamelessly referencing ND in this

“So how long before you start cheating on me?” I asked Ryan playfully, before taking another bite of my apple. The SJS Hotel apparently delivered packed picnics and outdoor blankets and it had been really awkward when one of the girls I normally hung out with approached us on the beach and handed Ryan a big, bamboo picnic basket.  
“Why would I cheat on you?”  
“Well, won’t you get tired of me and my lack of vagina-boob combo?”  
Ryan finished his glass of orange juice before giving me a serious answer: “Sure, I’m gonna miss girls and the varieties of boys, but dating you is business, right? If I mess this up, it’ll fuck up my career too.”  
I must have swallowed a big chunk of the apple while he’d spoken, because something in my chest stung at his words. “So this is just a job to you?”  
“Well partly, I mean, I could have had sex with a bunch of crazy fangirls, but I chose you right? And trust me, the only other person I would fake date over shitloads of sex would be Spencer, and with him it would be zero sex, so yeah,” Ryan grinned at me shyly, “I guess your clinginess worked on me after all.”  
I was done with my apple and threw the core at his face.  
“Stop littering and killing the environment,” he lectured me mockingly when I missed, and the apple fell in the sand.  
I was still hung up on his words though. Fake dating, he’d said. Yesterday we had actually gone on a real date. Well, realer than this once since Mr. Smith’s house was probably in the top ten of my “Never to go to for a date” places, right after hell.  
“We don’t have to fake date; you know? I mean, I like you and we get along pretty well. So this doesn’t have to be a completely forced relationship,” I explained and Ryan stared at me so intensely, I felt like I had to keep going, “And we can try out different positions whenever you get bored, or use some sex toys. Like, I’m up to anything, really.”  
Ryan smiled at me from ear to ear after I’ve finished. “You’re adorable,” was all he said, before pulling me into a kiss, which quickly turned into a small make out session.

“We should’ve stopped at my room before coming here. I would’ve brought my swim shorts and we could’ve gone swimming,” I told him when the lack of oxygen had gotten too much and we had to separate our lips in order to breathe.  
Ryan made a face at me, “I fucking hate oceans. Pete used to always sign me up for beach photo shoots and they’re a fucking nightmare. Every time you think you’ve got a good enough picture, a wave splashes you or some stupid seagull gets in the way and messes everything up.”  
“Modeling has ruined your appreciation for nature,” I told him, “I really think you should create some new, more pleasant memories involving it, so you can learn to love this wonderful planet we’ve been blessed to live on.”  
“You sound like a fucking hippie.”  
I sent him a lopsided grin and drew the peace sign in the sand. Ryan mimicked my behavior, but started drawing a pirate symbol instead.  
“You’re not spreading the love,” I tattled him, trying to turn the epiphyses into hearts.  
“I’m sharing my sense of realism.”  
“You’re the most cynical person I know,” I informed him, watching as the sand sank in around his finger.  
“Well,” Ryan said, finishing his drawing, “the world’s a broken bone. I just happen to see it for what it is.”

We finished our picnic shortly thereafter and, to my surprise, Ryan headed for my room instead of his.  
“Where are you swim shorts?” he asked, curiously looking around the small area.  
“I thought you didn’t want to swim in the ocean.”  
He gave me a stern look, “We’re using a pool.”  
At first I thought he meant the hotel pool where all the children and young teenagers usually hung out at, but then I remembered a house that I knew for certain had a pool. “I am not going back to Mr. Smith’s house, he’ll drown me!”  
Ryan rolled his eyes at me, “Stop being so overdramatic, and stop calling him Mr. Smith. It’s Spencer. And we’re going to my friend’s house who has a hot tub the size of this room, so calm down.”  
I nodded and quickly retrieved my swimwear. Ryan just stared at me in confusion.  
“Well, put them on,” he said, “it’s easiest if you’re already wearing them when we get there.”  
I felt awkward under Ryan’s gaze as I took my pants off. Sure, Ryan had seen me undress a dozens of times, but this was me changing outfits, not preparing for sex.  
“Did you get a sunburn?” he asked, still staring at me as my face got even hotter thanks to his question.  
I was tempted to tell Ryan to turn his back towards me or at least cover up his eyes, so I could finish undressing in peace. “I just think it’s weird that you’re watching me,” I answered him instead and Ryan grinned.  
“You would make a terrible model with that kind of gynophobia,” he said before walking up to me and pulling my underwear off my body.  
“Lift you foot up,” he ordered and I was too stunned by what was going on to reply, and just ended up following his instruction. Seconds later, I was fully dressed again.  
“Wasn’t all that bad now, was it?” Ryan smirked, “Do you have an extra pair I could borrow? I’m too lazy to go back to the suite.”  
“You just want me to return the favor,” I teased, referring to the help of dressing up. Either way, I threw a black pair of swim shorts at him.  
“I’m a professional,” he remarked and proved it by getting changed in a flash. 

“So who’s that friend we’re going to?” I asked Ryan once we were seated in a taxi.  
“Patrick, he’s a buddy of Pete.”  
Oh great, I thought, quietly hoping that Pete wouldn’t be there as well.  
“He’s a singer too,” Ryan added, “I’m sure you’ll like him.”

Going to Patrick’s house turned out to be a short drive and before I knew it, I was wrapped into a hug by a short, red-haired stranger.  
“Hi, I’m Patrick,” he said and smiled at me like his day had just been made thanks to my existence.  
“I’m Brendon,” I introduced myself politely.  
Patrick’s face lit up even more, “Pete’s told me about you! It’s so nice to finally meet you. Hey Pete,” he yelled and an even smaller man jumped out of the pool. Nanoseconds later, Pete was standing beside me, water dripping off of him and eyes glistering up at Patrick. I stared at Ryan helplessly, but he just shrugged his shoulders.  
“So Ryan told me you had a hot tub,” I heard myself say and watched as both of Pete’s and Patrick’s faces shone with excitement as they hushed me towards a more secluded area.

The hot tub was NOT the size of my room and I somehow ended up sitting in between Pete and Patrick, both their shoulders tightly pressed against mine while the hot water bubble around us. Ryan was across from me, grinning and trying to play footsies with me under the water.  
“I heard you’re a singer too,” Patrick started a conversation with me and I eagerly pursued it. We talked about music and our favorite bands, while Ryan and Pete spoke quietly with each other. Patrick was a very sweet guy, I could see why Ryan and Pete liked him so much. Not one bad word came out of his lips and he didn’t strike me as a stuck-up celebrity unlike some of Ryan’s other friends.

“Hey, Trick, can we show them the cake we made yesterday? Ryan wants to see it,” Pete asked and I was dragged out of the hot tub as fast as I had been put into it, and pushed into Patrick’s kitchen.  
“It’s an ice cream cake, and it’s awesome,” Pete gushed and pulled a half eaten cake out of the freezer.  
Patrick handed each of us a plate and served everyone a piece.  
“That’s actually delicious,” I said, and Ryan hummed in agreement.  
Just then, the doorbell rang and Patrick jumped out of his seat and rushed to the door. A few minutes passed before he came back with a big, brown package in his hand and Dallon close behind him.  
“Guys look, I brought another guest,” Patrick exclaimed, “Brendon meet Dallon, Dallon meet Brendon.”  
“We’ve met already,” Dallon explained and I smiled at him, happy that he was here.  
“I told him I wouldn’t give him my signature for the package before he tried our cake,” Patrick told us and gave Dallon the last piece of the cake that Ryan had been goggling at. The disappointment on Ryan’s face was obvious as Dallon stabbed the dessert and took a bite.  
“So, how did you two meet?” Patrick asked Dallon and me with genuine interest.  
“We actually ran into each other at the SJS Hotel,” Dallon said with a mouthful of cake, “and ever since, we just kind of connected. Bren even showed up at the Swim Wear Show.”  
Ryan’s eyes shot up in surprise at this last piece of information and he gave me a dirty look, “You did, Brendon? I thought you went to the show because I’d invited you.”  
“Oh sorry,” Dallon was quick to apologize to Ryan, “I didn’t know you had. I just kind of assumed, because Bren had come out with us the first night. I didn’t even realize you two knew each other.”  
“We’re dating.”  
“Well, technically it’s fake dating,” Pete corrected Ryan, who in turn sent him a death glare.  
Dallon shot me a confused look, which I could only return.


	17. Chapter 17

“Dallon, huh?” Ryan huffed once we’d gotten back from Patrick’s and were safely alone in his suite.  
I was about to tell him that Dallon and I were just friends, when I reconsidered. Jealousy, Pete had said, was after all the best publicity. Even though I didn’t care much about the media at this point, it sure wouldn’t hurt for Ryan to promote his devotion to me a bit more.  
“He’s a great guy,” I said instead, “fantastic model, too.”  
“I’m better,” Ryan argued and I had to supress a grin.  
“Well sure, right now you are. But Dallon’s much taller than you, and he’s got that charisma. Not many people have that.”  
“He’s a nerd,” Ryan muttered, while taking off his shirt, “and my skin reeks of chlorine.”  
“Mine too. Although Dallon’s skin-“  
“Oh, shut up,” Ryan took his swim shorts off and threw them at me, “thanks for the shorts. And by the way,” he added while nakedly striding towards the bathroom, “I’m much better at sex than he.”  
“How would you know?” I challenged him and his complacent smile.  
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”  
“Because I haven’t slept with Dallon yet.”  
“Good. I heard he’s lousy anyways,” Ryan informed me and I watched as he disappeared into the shower. He had left the bathroom door wide open, inviting me in to join him.

Ryan was all about sex, I came to realize not for the first time since I’ve met him. He didn’t care if Dallon had an awesome character, Ryan thought he would beat anyone purely by winning in the sex department. But I didn’t come back to Ryan every time for mind-blowing rim jobs. Sure, it was sex that had initially drawn me closer to him, but, in the process, he had become so much more than a good fuck buddy to me.  
Ryan was special in ways I couldn’t find myself describing. He was smart, funny, and loyal to his friends. There were days when I thought I could read him like a book, only to find out the wrong cover had been draped across the actual story. Every time I was certain I had figured him out, he became this great big mystery again. He was unpredictable and if I had to bet money on his future actions, I would be penniless in no time. Whenever I expected him to be an ass, he would say something sweet and show that he cared about me. In some moments when I assumed Ryan was happy, I would catch him with this distant look in his eyes, and a saddened expression on his otherwise smiling face. It was puzzling. Maybe Ryan didn’t even care about sex, for all that I knew. I barely knew him anyways.

I settled to watching TV, the audible stream of water in the room beside it serving as a distracting background noise. As much as I tried, I couldn’t focus on the show that was currently playing on the screen. My thoughts were still on Ryan, trying to figure him out and making a mental list of all the things I did know about him. It wasn’t a very long list. 

Soon, I heard the water being shut off and the sound of dabble Ryan made when stepped out of the shower. I looked up as he sat down beside me. He was wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. His hair was still wet and the scent of shampoo filled the air. There was a spot of white body lotion on his shoulder that hadn’t been absorbed to his skin yet and I gave into the urge to rub it over his entire arm until it would.  
“Pete said we should go to dinner tomorrow night, for the media and stuff,” Ryan said monotonously, while I continued drawing circles on his shoulder blade.  
“Sure, publicity right? It’s why we’re here,” I answered him slightly more bitterly than I had intended to sound.  
Ryan turned his face towards me and I stared into his chestnut brown eyes. His eyes were another thing I couldn’t read. Sure, I could easily see it in them when he was angry, horny, or amused. But there were other emotions displayed in his eyes. Emotions, words hadn’t been created for yet.  
I didn’t say anything further, neither did Ryan and after a few moments of silence, he got up and went to the bedroom. I gave up on finding interest in TV and stood up from the couch as well. I followed Ryan, unsure what our current behavior meant.

He was already in bed when I entered. His eyes closed shut and his head the only body part of him poking out through the thin blanket.  
“Hey,” I whispered tenderly as I joined him underneath the sheets. My legs made contact with Ryan’s, whose skin was cold, despite the earlier shower he’d taken.  
“Hi.”  
“Are you asleep yet?”  
Ryan hummed in agreement, but draped an arm over my torso, pulling me closer to him.  
“You’re warm,” he muttered, voice droopy and giving away to his tiredness. His hand travelled to my back and under my shirt.  
“Do you want me to take it off?”, I asked him, realizing that I was still fully dressed.  
“Up to you,” he responded. His eyes were still closed while his fingertips danced across my upper body. His hands were icy and each touch sent shivers down my spine.  
I let go of him for a few seconds to quickly undress. As I did, I observed Ryan, who looked utterly exhausted. He had woken me up early this morning and he must have been awake for much longer, if he was this tired. I wondered if he and I would have sex tonight; if he really was as sex-craved as I’d initially assumed.  
Once fully naked, I pecked him on the mouth to test my assumption. My lips continued wandering around his face and it wasn’t until I gently bit his earlobe before Ryan opened his eyes.  
“Go to sleep,” he hushed. His arm was draped back around me, and our bodies were close enough to have our bare chests pressed against each other.  
“I want you inside me,” I purred, my hands busy playing with the elastic of his underwear.  
“Not tonight,” he pushed my hands away while I tried to decipher how I felt about his rejection, “Go fuck Dallon if you’re horny,” he added and I was left speechless.  
What the fuck?  
“I thought you weren’t jealous of him,” I said when I found my voice again.  
Ryan’s eyes were back to being closed and I had trouble reading his facial expression, “I’m not.”  
“You sure sound like it.”

I got no response and laid on the bed waiting for sleep to save me from the confusion I felt. Silence and darkness slowly draped over us while the minutes passed away. Our bodies were still interconnected and I felt Ryan’s chest rise and sink evenly against my own. The grip he had around my torso loosened the deeper Ryan fell into sleep. I found my own hands wrap around him, trying to pull us back together to being as close as we were before. I would figure Ryan Ross out, I decided. Starting tomorrow, I would find out everything there was to him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short, and the next chapter will probably be a few days late because I have exams and my creativity is currently impeded by all the useless memorization I have (hopefully) crammed into my brain.

“Why are you asking me all these questions?” Ryan complained and refused to tell me what his favorite flower was. So far I had found out his favorite color, season, movie, and book.  
“We’re playing 21 questions,” I told him. I took another sip of my coffee and put it back on the tray. This morning, Ryan had woken up before me again and by the time I had woken up, he’d already ordered breakfast to be delivered right into the bedroom.  
“You’ve asked way more than twenty-one,” he argued, “I think it’s my turn.”  
“Shoot.”  
“Why are you really asking me all these questions?” He gave me a don’t-fuck-with-me look and I sighed in defeat. I was either terrible at being devious, or Ryan could read me much better than I could read him.  
“To get to know you,” I said, “I just get the feeling that there’s a bunch of things you haven’t told me about.”  
“And finding out what my favorite animal is, is going to fix that?” His voice was filled with doubt, and I couldn’t blame it. My questions WERE slightly frivolous, but I was taking baby steps to get to the core of what made Ryan tick.  
“No, but it’s a start.”  
Instead of replying, Ryan threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed. “I’m meeting Pete for lunch,” he explained and disappeared into the walk-in closet.

I finished the remnants of my coffee and got up as well. I picked my pants up off the floor and fished my phone out. “Wanna have lunch?” I texted Dallon, since Ryan wouldn’t be around to keep me company.  
“Sure,” came his response a few minutes later. I stared at Dallon’s contact info displayed on the screen and realized I still didn’t have a picture of him on my phone, or of Ryan for that matter. It irked me a bit, because hundreds of people had Ryan Ross as their screensaver, and I didn’t own a single photo of the man I was suppose to be dating.

“Hey Ry,” I called out and followed him into the closet where I found Ryan half-dressed and staring at two black shirts in deep concentration.  
“Which one do you think works better with these pants?”, he asked and I shrugged my shoulders, since both shirts looked identical to me.  
“I need a picture of you,” I told him instead and pointed the camera at his face. Ryan’s eyes grew wide in surprise at the sudden flash, but in the second picture (because you need more than one, in case the first one turns out blurry) Ryan was smoldering like he would at a professional photoshoot.  
“Thanks!”, I grinned and strode over towards where Ryan stood. I put the camera into selfie-mode and wrapped one hand around his waist. “We need one of us together, too. But you’ve got to smile in this one, though.”  
I poked Ryan in the ribs, when he kept his serious face. His mouth twitched, and I poked him again. A small, surprised smile was clearly forming on his lips. “You’re ticklish!” I realized, excited I had found out yet another small fact about Ryan, and started poking him more extremely. His whole body started shaking and Ryan tried to swat my hands away.  
“I am not. I’m just… over sensitive in some areas,” he argued, his voice a few pitches higher than usual.  
“Well, I’ll keep your hypersensitive skin in mind next time I need you to smile.”  
Ryan huffed, grabbed one of the black shirts and quickly escaped back into the bedroom. I laughed heartily and marveled at the picture I had managed to take of us both. Ryan looked silly in it, much better than he had in the smoldering one, and I was proud I had captured this side of him on print.

“Are you going surfing while I’m meeting Pete?” Ryan asked me, once he had styled himself up to his usual, materialized perfection that consisted of volumizing hairspray and expensive cologne.  
“No, I’m having lunch with Dallon.”  
“Oh,” Ryan said, “You can join Pete and me too, if you want.”  
I looked at him dumbstruck, “Are you seriously suggesting that you, Pete, Dallon, and I should have lunch together?”  
“God no,” Ryan quickly responded scandalized, “I meant you, me, and Pete. Why the fuck would I want to hang out with Dallon?”  
“Because Dallon’s actually cool and funny, and not creepy like Pete or any of your other friends.”  
Ryan rolled his eyes at me, “At least I have friends.”  
“I do too,” I argued. I was a cool, outgoing person, and I wasn’t going to let Ryan destroy my social-identity.  
“No, you don’t. Dallon’s only ‘friends’,” Ryan air quoted the word, “with you because he wants to fuck you.”  
“Just because he’s gay, doesn’t mean he can’t be friends with men,” I pointed out, because I wasn’t about to let Ryan get away with stereotyping Dallon.  
“I’m not saying that because he’s gay, I’m saying he wants to get into your pants, because you’re fucking hot and Dallon’s too smart to not notice how great you are.”

I was too stunned to speak and reply to him right away. Out of all the compliments I had gotten over the years, Ryan telling me that I was great was probably the best one. The simplicity of it made it momentous. Great, was after all, such a basic thing to say. Great could be applied in almost any context. It was a build-up word, meaning I was something that Ryan intended to work on and improve, such as turning beauty into great beauty, and love into great love, Brendon into great Brendon. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but in that moment, I didn’t really care if I was.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to post, but hey, at least I graduated right?

New York was… big? I really couldn’t find a word to describe it. It was more hectic than Miami, more vibrant, and most definitely colder.  
“See you guys later,” Spencer said when we left the airport, and Ryan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  
“You’re not staying with us?” he asked. Alarm bells began to ring in my head, because even though I was supposed to be the one dating Ryan, I always ended up as the third wheel when the three of us were together. Also, being stuck with Spencer Smith on a plane for three hours had been awful enough, I didn’t want to extend our “hanging out together” any longer.  
“No, I’m staying at a friend’s,” Spencer thankfully declined the offer, and winked at Ryan. God, I didn’t even want to know what kind of friend he was going to spend the night with.  
“I guess it’s just us two then,” Ryan smiled at me. I wish he wouldn’t always wear sunglasses in public, because the best thing about his smiles were the way his eyes always began to spark and gloat with happiness. 

Ryan hailed us a cab and told the driver the address to his house in the Hamptons.  
“I thought we were going sight seeing!” I complained and began to pout.  
“I’m not walking around New York with a bunch of luggage,” Ryan argued, and I was about to point out to him that he was the one who’d packed two gigantic suitcases, whereas I had merely brought my backpack with me, but Ryan continued his own rant: “Plus, I hate planes and I’m tired and it’s cold here and I really want to sleep in a bed that’s not in a fucking hotel.”  
“You’re too spoiled,” I teased him playfully, although it really was true.  
“It’s called having high standards,” he replied and I grinned when I saw the taxi driver’s face expression in the rear-view mirror.  
Ryan began to whistle to some old Beatles song that was playing on the radio. He didn’t listen to pop music, because they “lacked in proficiency”, as he put it. Him and “high standards”, I thought, shaking my head in slight amusement. Since Ryan was keeping himself busy with music, I pulled my phone out of my bag and turned the airplane mode off. I’d promised my mom and Dallon I would let them know I had landed safely as soon as I was in NYC.

“Who are you texting?” Ryan asked curiously when the song had ended and a commercial was coming out of the car’s speakers instead.  
“Dallon,” I said, because I’d already messaged my mom, so technically I was only texting Dallon.  
Ryan huffed in disapproval, “You never text me when you’re with him.”  
“Jealous?” I grinned, not looking up from my phone as I continued typing a long, heartfelt message.  
“No, just making an observation.”  
“What else are you observing?” I asked, my voice dropping an octave lower to sound more seductive.  
“Your pants,” Ryan said huskily.  
“What about my pants?”  
“Well,” Ryan murmured, “there’s seems to be something… off with them.”  
He looked at me expectantly, and I stared at him in confusion.  
“It’s a pun!” He exclaimed and I had to rewind for a moment to understand where he was coming from.  
“That’s horrible,” I tattled him, “You really have so much to learn, I’m not kidding.”  
Ryan groaned, “Can we just pretend this never happened? I was going for something here.”  
“Okay,” I granted, because I wasn’t completely merciless, “Where’d we leave off?”  
“There’s something off with your pants,” Ryan purred, back into action.  
“Like what?” I whispered, finally lifting up my gaze to see his smirk.  
“Like a bulge,” Ryan cackled, “Guess Dallon’s not the best sexter in the world.”  
“You’re an idiot,” I told him, just as my phone started vibrating with Dallon’s reply. I threw the phone at him, but Ryan caught it. He slid over to the middle seat and held the device out for me to grab. I did, and Ryan’s now empty hand landed on my crotch.  
“And don’t worry about this,” he breathed softly, giving my dick a squeeze, “I’ll take care of it when we get home.”

“This- this is not your house,” I stuttered for the umpteenth time since the cab had dropped us off.  
“You’re right, I’m just pranking you. We really just broke into some poor old lady’s house who passed away last year, and now her ghost is haunting this place and forbidding us to leave.”  
I rolled my eyes at him, still in disbelief that this really was Ryan’s place. I had imagined a gigantic mansion, like Spencer’s in Miami, not this tiny, little cottage that I was currently standing completely forlorn in.  
“What’s wrong with this house, anyway?” Ryan asked, slightly offended.  
“It’s so, uhm, not you,” I tried to explain.  
“Well, duh, that’s why it’s getting renovated.”  
“Still, it’s so small, like I expected something more extravagant.”  
“We have our own private beach,” Ryan informed me with a wink, “In case you want to go skinny dipping at some point.”  
“Speaking of dipping,” I said, my eyes trailed down Ryan’s body and lingered on his narrow hips and crotch.  
“Hmm?” He hummed in appreciation as my fingers began curling around the seam of his shirt.  
“Why don’t you give me a tour of your house, maybe start with the bedroom?” I coaxed, and let my hands travel underneath his shirt and my palms roaming over his chest.  
“You’re not scared of the water, are you?” Ryan teased, pulling me closer while kneading my ass.  
I didn’t respond, instead I attack his neck. To be honest, I had absolutely no desire to go outside and have sex in an ocean. It would probably be really fucking cold and the stones would be slimy and the entire seabed would just be really slippery and gross.  
Despite those very obvious points, Ryan made no attempt into moving us to the bedroom. He was contempt with unzipping my pants and getting me undressed, just to cover the newly exposed skin with his kisses.

Once we were both completely naked he took my hand and tried to drag me to the patio door. “C’mon” he said, but I refused stubbornly, thinking of how warm and soft his bed must probably be.  
Ryan sighed and suddenly I was swept off my feet and thrown over Ryan’s shoulder.  
“I hope you’re taking me to your room, because otherwise I’m going to dug my toenails into your slit and scratch it until it bleeds.”  
“That’s disturbing,” Ryan answered, but scooted me up higher so my feet would be at height with his bellybutton.  
“Let me down!” I complained, “You shouldn’t even be strong enough to lift me.”  
“What’s that suppose to mean?”  
I pursed my lips, and tried to kick him. He really didn’t deserve an answer.  
“Hey,” Ryan shook me, “Are you saying I look weak?”  
I couldn’t bite my tongue any longer, “You look like an asshole.”  
“I’ll throw you in the water, if you don’t start acting nice.”  
“Fuck off.”

It was not as chilly outside as I had expected it to be. The beach behind the house was fairly big and probably made up half of the entire property. I had to admit, it was nice. The cold summer breeze, the stars giving light to the otherwise black sky, and the rustling of the sea created an aesthetic atmosphere, plus despite my earlier efforts to get rid off him, I clung to Ryan like a monkey and I very much enjoyed the amount of bare body contact we had as a result.  
Without warning, Ryan flung me off of him and I landed securely in some cottony-thing.  
“The fuck?” I gasped, before Ryan took my breath away by launching himself on top of me.  
“Relax, I wasn’t actually planning on throwing you into the water. I mean, I did consider it, but I thought this would be nicer.”  
I realized that we were in a hammock, underneath a thick branched tree. Ryan reached out his arm and fumbled around the trunk, until small, little string lights began to shine above our heads. Regardless of how beautiful and romantic it was, I punched Ryan semi-softly in the stomach.  
“Ow! What was that for?”  
“For tricking me,” I said. I felt a smile beginning to form on my lips, but before it was fully there, I positioned Ryan on top of me so I could kiss him languidly.  
Ryan definitely had a thing for big beds, I mused, the hammock was probably four feet wide, if not more. I didn’t complain, though, as we took full advantage of its size and rolled around the thick, cotton strings, making the hammock rock swiftly back and forth, and feeling the force of our movements as it swung accordingly to the motions of our bodies.

“Did you plan this?” I panted, my chest rising and falling quickly from the extended make out session -although Ryan’s weight on top of me wasn’t exactly making it easy to breathe either. I was no longer cold, but sweaty and my lips were sore and felt swollen.  
Ryan’s lips were equally red as he smirked at me, “What do you think Spence and I talked about on the plane while you had your earphones in?”  
I was exasperated that he would tell Spencer, out of all people about our sex life again, but quickly recovered when I realized something else, “You didn’t tell him, because you wanted him to stay here with us for the night, remember?”  
I grinned victoriously, but Ryan managed to ruin it: “That was just a set up. You should’ve seen your face when I made the suggestion! But no, I just said that so you could fully appreciate us being alone together here tonight. Plus,” Ryan continued, because he apparently wasn’t done telling me all about his master plan, that I still wasn’t sure he had actually contrived, or was just making up on the spot, “Spence mentioning his special friend? That was in there to get you horny and give you some nice ideas about what we could do together.”  
“You’re impossible,” I said, and almost regretted starting this conversation with him. Ryan was gloating almost as much as the rope bulb lights hanging in the tree.  
“I’m a genius,” he retorted and smiled, baring his white teeth and letting his eyes spark.  
“No,” I said, “You’re crazy.”  
“Same thing,” Ryan replied and began kissing me again.


	20. Chapter 20

"Why are so many idiotic people here?" Ryan complained.  
"Because without them, you wouldn't stand out."  
“True,” he muttered and readjusted his sunglasses for the billionth time. It wasn’t even that sunny outside.

A group of squealing kids was dashing around us and Ryan looked like he was about to become that person who yelled at children’s parents and killed everyone’s good mood. I almost regretted forcing him to go on the ferry with me, but we were in New York after all and what kind of an American would I be if I didn’t go see the Statue of Liberty? 

Ryan watched one of the children trip and fall, and I thought he was feeling sardonic enough to laugh, but his mood remained sour.  
“I don’t get it,” Ryan said loudly over the crying of the child and the concerned shouting of the parents, “It’s not like the thing looks any different than it does on postcards. You’re just paying money to inhale people’s sweat and be that random face in the background in some strangers’ vacation photos. “  
I almost wished Ryan would stop speaking and start mewling like the little kid. At least then I could just stick a pacifier in his mouth and get him to shut up. But no, Ryan was moody and he was happy to share his disgruntlement with the rest of the world.

“I knew a guy once, he’d come here every time he was in New York, and he was always so amazed when we got here. Even in the winter he’d go. I’d freeze my ass off and he would tell me how magical it all seemed. It’s man-made,” Ryan groaned, “I mean there’s a reason why people say ‘still like a statue’, because it looks the same fucking way every day.”  
“It’s symbolic,” I told him annoyed. This was supposed to be our amazing New York adventure day, and he was being a complete ass ever since I dragged him to the ferry.  
“You know what’s also symbolic? Clothes. Which sadly, I can’t buy because I’m stuck on this pathetic mini-island.”  
“Sure you can, there’s a gift shop over there,” I smirked deviously at Ryan’s death glare and pointed at one of the three buildings.  
“Beats staying here outside,” Ryan grumbled and was about to leave.  
However, I grabbed him by the arm. “But first we need to at least take one picture of us together in front of the statue,” I told him sternly.  
“You and you’re fucking pictures,” he complained, but his refusal was only half hearted. Ryan, I had learned, was a model for a reason: he loved having photos of himself taken at all times.  
I fished my phone out and tried to capture our faces with the Statue of Liberty in the background.  
“Your arm’s too short,” Ryan noted dryly after my failed attempt.  
I offered him the phone, “You take it then.”  
“Nah-uh, if I wanted to take pictures I’d be a fucking photographer and not a model.”  
Fuck, he was in such a bitchy mood today.  
“Fine,” I stomped over a few steps to find an adequate person to take a photo of us. I scanned the crowd for a tall, non-homophobic person, and ignored the people who were busy with their own camera. 

I fixated my glance at a skinny, Latino looking guy who was around the same height as Dallon.  
“Excuse me, sir,” I said and poked him in the arm. He turned around and, for a brief moment, I wondered if Ryan knew him. That man had to be a goddamn successful model with that kind of face and body. Or an actor at least. Otherwise, it would be a fucking shame if his beauty wasn’t shared with the public.  
“Yes?” He said, and wow. I wasn’t sure if I was just seeking happiness due to Ryan’s grouchiness, or if the guy really had a stunning smile. His grin reminded me of Dopey, the dwarf, and it took me a second to finally respond.  
“Would you, uhm, mind taking a picture of my boyfriend and me over there?”  
“I’d love to,” he winked at me in a humored way and I walked us back to where Ryan was still standing and looking pissed. If that guy was Dopey, Ryan was definitely Grumpy.

“Hey,” I called over to him, because despite the sunglasses, it was obvious that Ryan had zoned out, his mind in a place that was definitely not here.  
Ryan looked up, first at me, then to our recruited photographer.  
“Fuck,” Dopey said and Ryan froze. 

Well, I thought staring between the two, I definitely got the non-homophobe type right by picking this dude. The way he was glaring at Ryan was filled with desire, while Ryan stared back horrified. Shit, I hoped Dopey wasn’t some creepy stalker who was unhealthily obsessed with Ryan. But fuck it, after being the epitome of asshole the whole day, I didn’t give a damn if Ryan’s stalker was the one to take our picture. He could even keep an extra one on his phone, for all I cared.

“Well, here’s my phone,” I announced loudly enough to disrupt their stare-down and handed my iPhone over to Dopey.  
I strode over to Ryan and wrapped both my arms around him, grinning extra wide on purpose because Ryan hated smiling pictures.

Dopey was still completely dumbstruck (and possibly starstruck), but took a few photos, nevertheless.  
My eyes were looking into the camera lens, so I didn’t see what face Ryan was making. Judging by the rigidness of his body though, he must have been imitating the Statue of Liberty.  
“All done,” Dopey said. Because I wasn’t an impolite jerk like Ryan, I beamed at Dopey and said an earnest ‘thank you’ when he handed me my phone back.  
Almost too quickly for an obsessed fan, Dopey disappeared in the crowd.  
“Now, we can check out the merch,” I grabbed Ryan’s hand and pulled him into the gift shop.

Ryan was awfully quiet on the way back on the ferry. He was texting like crazy on his phone and ignoring me completely.  
“Where are we going for lunch?” I asked, caring more about getting his attention back than the actual answer.  
“I’m meeting Spencer as soon as we get off this fucking wreck.” Okay maybe I did care about the answer. Ryan sounded pissier than he had this morning, if that was even possible.  
“What am I supposed to do in the meantime then?” Because clearly I wasn’t fucking invited to their VIP lunch.  
Ryan shrugged his shoulders, fingers typing faster than the speed of the ferry. “Whatever you want. It’s not like I’m you’re fucking babysitter.”  
“No, you’re just my boyfriend,” I retorted. Anger was starting to slowly build up inside me.  
“For publicity. I’m not your fucking tour guide for fucking New York.”  
It would be nice, I thought, if Ryan would just look up for one second and see me, just so my fiery glances would not all have been shot for absolutely nothing.

Spencer was already waiting for Ryan when we got off the ferry and I walked past him without either one of us saying hi. I wandered the streets of the foreign city like a lone wolf. My mind too distracted with being fascinated by the different attractions, to be pondering about Ryan’s shitty behavior.  
I bought lunch at a hotdog stand and ended up watching a street performance for most of the remaining afternoon. A few hours after Ryan had ditched me for Spencer, my phone buzzed with a text from him saying he would spend the night with Spencer. Great. All my stuff was at Ryan’s house and I didn’t have enough cash on me for a hotel, especially after I had left half of my wallet with the performers. I doubted I could even pay for a cab.  
“Fuck it,” I muttered to myself and hailed for a taxi. Ryan probably had a bunch of money stacked in his house anyway. 

A tall shadow figure was sitting on the porch when I arrived at the house. It was too dark out to see properly, and at first I thought it was Ryan, but as I got nearer, I realized it was Dopey, the stalker guy from this morning.  
“What the fuck?” I said to myself, but loud enough for him to hear. How did he even know where Ryan lived? I pulled my phone out, ready to call 911, in case Dopey turned into the Evil Queen.  
I watched him get up from the steps and approach me. “Where’s Ryan?”, he said. His voice sounded more sad than murderous, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.  
“What the fuck are you doing here, man?” I asked, my phone moving only slightly in my shaking hand. It didn’t really help that the only two neighboring houses stood empty. Ryan had said yesterday that the owners rarely came up to the Hamptons. The taxi was already miles away and I wished I hadn’t had enough money to pay for it after all, that way driver would have still been here. Now, I was stuck with a creepy guy, who just had to be at least half a foot taller than me. Shit, I was going to die all because Ryan had thrown a bitchfest today.

“I have to talk to Ryan,” my soon-to-be murderer said.  
“Well, he’s not here, so you can just leave,” my voice was strong, while the hand, that wasn’t holding my phone, was shaking in my jeanspocket and grabbing tightly onto the house key.  
“Can you tell him I came by? God, you look like a ghost, are you alright?”  
“I’m fine,” I assured him (and myself), “Just go.”  
He nodded and made his way to the driveway where a car had been parked. It was a black vehicle and almost invisible in the nightlight and I didn’t blame myself for not noticing it before. Just before the guy was about to sit in the car and drive off, he stopped and turned back around to me.  
The breath of relief I had been about to exhale was left stuck in my throat.  
“It’s Gabe, by the way.”  
“What?” I sputtered, my mind too busy coming up with an escape plan.  
“My name. I’m Gabe Saporta, in case Ryan asks.”  
“Okay?”  
With that, he drove off and I ran into the house. Locking all doors and crawling into bed, because what the fuck? I had heard Ryan talk about a Gabe before, I was sure of it. I just couldn’t remember in what context.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My buddy beta'd this, so s/o to her

The front door banged shut, the sound becoming my harsh wake-up call.

“Brendon?” Ryan hollered and appeared in the bedroom only seconds later.  
The sun was shining viciously through the blinds and I had to blink at Ryan a couple of times before my eyes adjusted to the unwanted brightness.  
“Morning sunshine,” Ryan smiled and disappeared as quickly out of the room as he had come in.  
I groaned into the pillow. Morning and sunshine were the two things I couldn’t stand right now. I wanted to go back to sleep, or have a cup of coffee in my hands at the very least. As on cue, I heard a small beeping coming from the kitchen and soon the whiff of fresh espresso penetrated my nostrils.  
“Ugh,” I vocalized my frustration. It was too early to articulate actual words yet. With another sigh I rolled off the bed and followed the scent of coffee beans. 

Ryan was humming in the corner, playing with an old stereo CD Player. He looked up when he saw me heading for the cupboards to grab a mug.   
“This one’s for you,” Ryan told me with a laugh and pressed play. The Beatles’, plus Ryan’s, voices filled the room. It was a sweet gesture, I thought, until I recognized the song.   
“Please, don't wake me, no, don't shake me. Leave me where I am, I'm only sleeping,” Ryan sang softly along with a douchebag smile plastered on his lips. Well, at least he hadn’t played Wham!.   
I slurped on my espresso, ignoring Ryan’s typical morning happiness. Memories of yesterday were slowly coming back to me with each sip.

“Glad you’re not in such an asshole mood today again,” I noted as bitterly as my coffee. My mouth twisted downwards at the taste and I got up to grab some sugar and milk. I ambled back towards the counter, remembering something else, “Your creepy friend came by yesterday.”  
Ryan stopped singing and turned the volume down. “Yeah, about that,” he said and beckoned me to sit down at the round kitchen table, “That was Gabe.”  
I nodded, “Gabe Saporta.”  
Ryan gulped empty air and stood up to get himself a cup of espresso too. I was pretty sure he was stalling, but who was I to stop anyone from getting coffee this early in the morning?  
“I know I haven’t told you much about him,” Ryan said, once he was back at the table and his hands were wrapped around the steaming cup- like he was cold even though the room felt like it was boiling. I really hoped Ryan would include an AC in the renovation plan.  
“But, since he’s here and you’re here too, you should probably know a bit more about what happened,” he coughed slightly before he continued, “Gabe worked for Spencer last summer and-“  
The doorbell rang and we both froze.   
Ryan got up from his chair for the second time and went to open the front door. 

“Oh, hey, come in,” I heard Ryan say and soon enough he and the new guest came back to the kitchen.   
“This place really needs a do-over,” the visitor noted and took in the entire room with critical, green eyes, “I was thinking we could tear the wall over there down and put an extra window over here. That would enable some more light to come in and we could get rid of this ugly lamp you still have on the ceiling for some horrible reason.”  
Ryan nodded in agreement, and the man sniffed the air noticeably.   
“Coffee?” I offered him with a knowing grin, since Ryan was still caught up in picturing his dream house.  
“Please,” the guy said and didn’t wait for me to serve him. Instead he just grabbed a cup from the shelf and filled it up all by himself.

Since the new visitor was clearly capable of looking after himself, I decided to allow my mind to rewind back to when Ryan had talked about Gabe. He had worked for Mr. Smith last year. Memories from weeks ago suddenly re-emerged to my conscious. He was the Newbie Ryan had had a summer fling with. He was the reason why Spencer didn’t want Ryan to date any more of his employees. Ryan had admitted that the relationship had ended badly and Spencer must have been the one cleaning the mess they’ve made up. But what on earth could have possibly happened between them that made Ryan pale as a ghost at the mere sight of Gabe?   
Different scenarios constructed in my head, each more absurd and grotesque than the other. Disturbed by my own thoughts, I blinked myself back into reality and realized that Ryan and the other guy had left the kitchen. I stood up from the chair and refilled my cup before I walked around the house in search for them. 

Turns out, they were in the garden. I watched through the window, as the stranger waved his hand in an exaggerate manner around the property and Ryan nodded enthusiastically to every word the other spoke. He must be the architect, it finally dawned on me when I drowned the last sip of my second serving of coffee. I knew Pete wanted me to be somewhat involved in the renovation planning, but seeing as there were no reporters or paparazzi present, I just shrugged my shoulders and went to the living room where I flung myself on the couch and tried to sleep.  
However, my eyes only stayed shut for a few seconds before they automatically opened up again. Too much caffeine was in my system to be properly tired, and I sighed and inspected the room instead. It was a large room, even the bedroom wasn’t as big. The sofa I was currently laying on was bolstered with pillows, while the arm chair in the corner was almost completely hidden away by the large, white blanket that had been thrown over it. A glass table was placed in the middle of the room and right across from me and the couch hung a huge plasma TV. It was a nicely decorated room actually, and I let my eyes wander around it for a second time. Only now did I notice the acoustic guitar leaning against the arm chair. I hadn’t brought my own guitar to Miami, thinking I would be too busy playing the piano and exploring the city to play any other instrument anyway. My hands were fucking itching with the urge to play it and my eyes remained wistfully at the chordophone. 

“Glad you’re giving the guitar more lustful looks than me,” Ryan suddenly spoke and perched in the arm chair, “If you’re were conflicted before, you can totally masturbate to the sight of us both now,” Ryan offered with a smirk and patted the Gibson fondly.   
“Where’s your architect?” I asked, ignoring his suggestion even though Ryan was right (for once). Him and me naked, plus a guitar, created some visually pleasing images in my head that I couldn’t wait to make concrete.  
“Left,” Ryan said, his hand playing lazily with the strings. I cursed his long, delicate fingers that stroked the guitar like he was filming some kind of fucked up porn movie.  
“I didn’t know you played,” I noted, sounding as if I was in trance; my eyes locked on the way the fine vein on the back of his hand popped with each movement of his fingers.  
“I don’t.” As if to prove his point, Ryan pinched his thumb and forefinger and plucked one of the strings with them. Maybe my thoughts had strayed too far at this point, but the motion of his action was very much like the way Ryan always lifted the elastic band of my underwear before giving me a handjob.   
“Someone should teach you then,” I heard the words escape my lips. Yesterday’s incident was fading quickly from my mind and I forgot that I was supposed to be angry at Ryan and demand answers about what happened to Gabe and why he’d been such an asshole the entire day.   
“You play?” Ryan asked and I could hear the smirk and the cock of an eyebrow in his voice. I nodded and suddenly Ryan pulled his hand back from the guitar and curled his index finger in my direction, beckoning me to come over to him.  
I could’ve jumped out of my seat at the invitation, but Ryan was taking it slow. His voice and movements had been gradual and calculated; like a tiger on a hunt before it went in for the kill. I forced myself to do the same. Agonizingly slow, I put my palms beside both of my knees and pushed myself up and off the sofa. Step by step I closed the distance between him and me. Ryan was back to strumming the strings with his fingernail and the sound accompanied my walk towards him.

“Finally,” Ryan exhaled dramatically when I’d gotten close enough. He immediately let go of the guitar and reached out for me instead. His arms wrapped around my hips and pulled me in expeditiously, so that I fell right into his lap.   
“I need some stripping practise before I tackle the wallpaper,” Ryan whispered as his palms roamed up and down my arms. I couldn’t help but laugh at his explanation.  
“Like you’ll actually be the one doing the renovations,” I teased him, and, as an afterthought, added, “Plus you really bad at doing word plays.”  
“I play much better in other games.”  
I chuckled again, feeling the worry from last night being lifted from me. My shirt had somehow already gotten on the floor and my back muscles were now being massaged by Ryan’s strong and glorious hands.  
I realized I wasn’t doing anything to return the favor, and so I started tenderly biting Ryan’s earlobe, mixing it up every now and then with a quick dip of my tongue into his ear shell.  
Ryan’s massage had progressively gone lower and lower and had reached the part of my ass that wasn’t sitting on his legs. He was kneading it like a baker would with fucking bread dough.  
I sucked on his earlobe until it glistered with spit. Satisfied with my work, I bent my neck to repeat the whole act on the other ear. Noticing my switch-up, Ryan stopped as well and started working on my pants instead.

My mouth was wide open, hovering over his ear, when cool fingers suddenly came into contact with my dick. I moaned before I began licking again, feeling the hot exhaled breath I put into his ear, back on my tongue.  
“Why do I always have to undress myself?” Ryan groaned, though not really annoyed. I looked up in surprise. It was true: my clothes were scattered all around the arm chair, while Ryan was still in his blue jeans and olive shirt.  
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I stuttered and quickly began to fiddle with the button of his pants, while Ryan took off his top in one swift movement.  
“Much better,” he grinned once he joined my complete nudity, and pulled me in for a kiss. He opened his lips and, immediately, my tongue darted into his mouth. “What’s up with your tongue kink today?” Ryan grinned and I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what had come over me either. Ryan, however, seemed to like it. He crushed our mouths back together and bit gently into my lower lip when I gave him access. Meanwhile, our hips were moving in circular motion, creating the necessary friction to get us both hard. 

The door bell rang. I stopped everything completely, while Ryan cursed.  
“Fuck them,” he said, voice rasp and stoic, “this is more important.”  
I eagerly agreed.


	22. Chapter 22

“Keep playing,” Ryan begged me and I started strumming the strings on the Gibson again. We had fallen off the arm chair at some point, and were both comfortably laying on the floor now. My head rested on Ryan’s stomach and the lower part of my body snugly fit in between his legs.

“What’s song was that?” He asked me when I had finished playing the actual song and only random chords were filling the room now.  
“I don’t know, I just heard it on the radio a while back,” I admitted, my voice a faint purr because Ryan’s hand was in my hair, cradling my skull tenderly, “That’s why I didn’t sing along; I don’t know the words to it.”  
“What songs do you know?”  
“Uhm, a bunch, actually. Any preferences?”  
Instead of giving me an answer, a loud grumbling noise emerged from Ryan’s stomach and echoed in my ears.  
“Hungry?” I asked teasingly and tried to twist my head so I could see his face.  
Ryan slightly shook his head, “I’ll eat later, you have to sing first.”  
I laughed and got up, putting the guitar back in its original place. “You can hear me sing every night at the hotel. It’s not my fault you never come.  
Ryan made a protesting sound, “I don’t like classical music. And I did come see you.”  
“Once,” I reminded him. I wasn’t too bitter about it, though. After a month of working at the SJS, even I was sick of playing Beethoven and Mozart every single night.  
“Just do one song,” Ryan pleaded and I was astonished at his persistency- that he actually cared enough. So far he had always shown minimal interest in my musical career and I was stumped trying to figure out what had changed his mind.  
“No. I’m going to get something to eat, because I’m starving. And you’re obviously hungry, too. Like, what time is it?” I glanced on the clock above the door, that signalized it was past noon already, “Did you even have breakfast?” I asked Ryan, who just grinned at me.  
“I had you for breakfast.”  
I rolled my eyes and grabbed the blanket off the floor, that must’ve also fallen from the arm chair during sex. I wrapped the sheet loosely around my torso and started to make my way into the kitchen.

“First you won’t sing for me, then you cover up your body, and now you’re leaving me here alone?” Ryan yelled over dramatically after me, “What did I do to deserve this?”  
“At least I’ll feed you,” I called back to me.  
“But your lack of affection is starving me.” Came the immediate response while I inspected the inventory of the fridge with criticizing eyes. Other than a carton of eggs, milk, and some cheese, it was completely devoid of anything of nutritious value.  
“You’re good with pancakes?” I hollered back to Ryan and hoped he kept flour in one of his cupboards.  
“I want waffles,” he demanded his voice suddenly much closer and I looked over to find Ryan leaning lazily against the doorframe of the kitchen, “The waffle iron should be in the second drawer over there.”  
He pointed next to the stove and as I bent over to open the drawer, the blanket slid off my hips and landed on the ground, exposing my bare ass.  
“Hey, remember when Pete walked in on us?” Ryan grinned, “And you tried to cover yourself up and the blanket fell off, just like it did now?”  
“Shut up,” I said, provoked by his words and tried to shake any memories of Pete off of me, “That never happened.”  
“So in denial.”  
“You’re not getting any waffles if you keep talking,” I warned him and put the waffle iron on the counter, “Where do you keep the flour?”  
Ryan shrugged his shoulders, “I doubt I have any.”  
“How do you expect me to make waffles without any flour?” I asked him irritated. I must’ve looked pretty hopeless, because Ryan’s smirk was slowly transformed into a soft smile.  
“There’s a waffle house down the road.”  
“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” I said harshly and Ryan lifted both hands, as if to prove his innocence.  
“I thought you wanted to eat like cereal or something, not make actual food,” he explained.  
Scandalized, I realized what he was trying to say. “Do you not trust my cooking?” I called him out, though Ryan didn’t even have the decency to blush and showed no sense of shame.  
“No, not really,” he said instead and I snorted.  
“I’m a great cook, for your information.”  
His grin was full of mischief and he ignored my comment, “Go get dressed, I’d like to eat something before I starve to death.”  
“You said you weren’t even hungry.”  
Another grin was sent towards my direction, “To discourage you from cooking.”  
“You’re an ass,” I said and picked up the blanket, covering myself up again. Ryan didn’t deserve to see me naked, anyways.  
“And you’re a prude.”

“So,” I said, my mouth full of waffles, “What happened to Gabe?”  
Ryan almost choked on his piece of pineapple and the old lady sitting at the table beside us stared at him in concern. Ryan was still having a coughing fit and more and more of the handful of customers in the Waffle Place looked over at us with a worried expression.  
“He’s fine,” I assured them, and pushed my glass of water to Ryan who eagerly grabbed it and drowned it in one go.  
“He’s fine,” Ryan mimicked me, as soon as he could breath properly again, and then added in a stern voice, “I could’ve died, for all you know!”  
“No, you wouldn’t,” I argued right back, “I took First Aid, so even if your air way had been seriously blocked - which it hadn’t -, I could’ve saved you easily.”  
Ryan smirked, “Would you have thrown me onto the ground, straddle me, and smashed your lips against mine to give me mouth-to-mouth, like they do in those movies?”  
“That’s for heart attacks, you idiot.”  
Ryan just shrugged his shoulders and popped another piece of fruit into his mouth. “We should head back to the city to go shopping for the rest of the day, for publicity of course.”  
I snorted disdainfully, “Yes, because you wouldn’t dream to go shopping for any other reason.”  
“I’m a model, Brendon, shopping is part of my job. Like politicians keep track of the news and read the paper, right? I, as a professional, committed model, see it as my duty to be up to date with the latest fashion. Shopping is for work purposes. If I just happen to find a little souvenir while I’m at it, I’ll wear it, you know, like a quote in an essay: to show that I am an A plus student.”  
He winked at me and directed his gaze at my half-eaten waffle, “You’re ready to go?”  
I was about to point out to him that, no, I was still eating, when Ryan snatched the remaining food on my plate and stuffed it all into his mouth.  
“You’re a pig,” I said instead, mourning over my unfinished breakfast that I watched him munch happily away, “And if you keep stealing my food, you’re gonna get fat and lose your job.”  
“Nah,” Ryan’s eyes glistered with joy that was definitely drawn from my own misfortune “the more I eat, the more I have to exercise. And based on my experience, a two-hour drive can be quite a workout if you’re in the backseat with someone you just can’t keep your hands off from.”  
As if he had to prove his words true, he stood up and grabbed my hand, dragging us both away from the table and towards the already waiting cab. While we walked out the store, I kept looking back to where we’d sat, feeling as if I’ve missed something, but couldn’t exactly remember what.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going away for a week and I won't have any time to write, so the next chapter will most likely be super late. Sorry about that :(

“Hey Bren,” Ryan called me over and pulled out yet another piece of clothing out of his sixth shopping bag, while the rest of its contents, and that of the other five bags, was already scattered everywhere on the living room floor. “If you were a scarf, you would totally look like this one,” he held out another one of his dozen scarves he’d purchased and I mustered the accessory with a mixed opinion.  
“That’s a compliment, right?” I asked, double checking to make sure Ryan wasn’t insulting me with scarf metaphors now.  
“Duh, it’s only the best scarf ever made. Here put it on.” Before I could decline the offer, Ryan was standing inches away from me and threw the scarf around my neck. He pulled on the ends inexhaustibly to adjust the position of the way it hung on my shoulders, and then -clearly satisfied with his work- took a step back for inspection.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Ryan said, after a good ten seconds had passed by, “Maybe you’re just not a scarf type of person.”  
“Well, there goes my dream of ever becoming a scarf model,” I muttered sarcastically, “I guess I can take this off now.”  
“No, keep it on,” Ryan insisted in his demanding, bratty voice, before I could even touch the scarf with my hands.  
“You’re worse than a child about to throw a tantrum.”  
“I’m also much cuter than one.”  
I couldn’t argue with that one and went into the living room further, to close the distance between Ryan and me again.

“You shouldn’t have bought me all that stuff,” I started, because some of the clothing was actually mine, that Ryan had forced me to try on, “I can’t bring it back to Miami, it’s not all going to fit into my backpack.”  
“That’s why I told you to bring a suitcase here, dummy.” Ryan spoke softly and played with the hem of the scarf, accidentally touching my neck every now and again with his fingertips which made me not mind scarves as much anymore, “I don’t have any spare ones, but we can go buy you one tomorrow.”  
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I reminded him, and tried to not sound as sullen about it as I felt.  
“I know,” his hand slid to the back of my neck, underneath the scarf, and Ryan pulled me in for a long, passionate kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made me wish I wouldn’t need oxygen to breath, that my lips could stay on Ryan’s forever. But cruel as the world is, we were gasping for air way too soon and I wrapped my arms around him, burying my head in his chest to make up for the loss my mouth suffered from.

“Bren, are you crying?” Ryan suddenly asked and my eyes immediately snapped up to meet his worried gaze.   
“What? No, why would I?”  
“You were shaking and hiding your face, plus you won’t see me for the next two weeks and I understand if that upsets you.”  
“Dude, I’m not crying,” I looked Ryan square in the eye, showing him I had absolutely no tears in mine.  
“Pity,” he said, and I raised my eyebrow in question, “It would’ve been much more romantic if you had. Like I’d be nice to know you actually cared about me and were upset about leaving. And you know, crying would’ve been a good way to show it,” he explained in teasing amusement.  
I really wanted to punch him for accusing me of crying and then turning our farewell into a bad soap opera, but then I thought better of it. Might as well give him the show he wanted.  
“Oh Ryan!” I sobbed in great satire and flung myself dramatically back into his arms, “Please come back with me to Miami. I can’t live without you!” I whimpered and tightened the grip I had around his torso, clinging onto him like a ship’s anchor about to be thrown into the deep ocean.  
“Shh, it’s okay,” Ryan petted my head, that I made violently shake at his words.  
“No, it won’t,” I argued and blinked heavily a few times to force out some tears that just wouldn’t come, “What if you miss your flight back and won’t come back? I’ll never get to see you again,” I cried and had to hide my face in his chest again to stop myself from bursting out laughing and breaking character.  
“Well,” Ryan began, and just by his voice I could tell he was trying to fight off a smile as well, “that gives us all the more reasons to make tonight special.”  
Was he giving me the last night on earth speech? I grinned into his shirt, before looking up at him, dog puppy sadness written on both of our faces again as we locked eyes.  
“You’re so beautiful and strong, baby, I know you’ll be just fine,” Ryan assured me in some weird fake English accent that I couldn’t decipher.  
“You promise?”  
“I promise,” Ryan whispered and sealed his words with a kiss; much different than the one we had shared before. It was open mouthed, electric, heated, and soon a hand here and there was added to it. Before I knew it, we were tearing each others clothes off and, for once, Ryan was first to press his naked body against mine.

It was already hot in the room to begin with- thanks to the still nonexistent AC in the house. Small sweat pellets were running down Ryan’s neck and I couldn’t wait to see what he’d look like five minutes from now.  
I had no idea how Ryan managed to do it, but a pack of condoms and lube were suddenly in his hands.  
“Did you pull that out of your ass or something?” I inquired and was amazed by how quickly my word choice could adapt to the situation.  
Ryan just grinned while uncapping the bottle. Strands of hair were falling in front of his face as he was looking down and I reached out my fingers to tuck the hair behind his ears.  
“Any special preferences in position?” Ryan asked and I mentally ran through every porn movie I’ve ever watched.  
“I want to ride you,” I finally announced meekly. Ryan had probably expected something wild, something he himself had never even done before with another person. God, I was such a loser for not coming up with anything better.  
“You go cowboy,” Ryan winked at me and poured some lube over his fingers before stretching me.

Considering the vast amount of penetration I had had over the past few days, it didn’t take long for me to be ready to take Ryan’s cock.

Ryan laid down on his back and I kneeled down on top of him. My legs were on either side of his stomach and Ryan’s arms were wrapped around me, touching my sweat covered thighs, while he held his dick in position to keep it steady while I lowered myself on top of him.  
I sunk down slowly on him. Mesmerized by how dark his eyes were from this angle and his aroused state. My eyes never strayed from Ryan’s as I pushed down.  
Ryan let out a long, impatient moan. Fuck he was so hot like this. My ass finally made contact with his pelvis and Ryan’s hands moved back to the front where they were running up the sides of my torso. I began moving, feeling the angle of Ryan’s cock change every time I rolled my hips.  
Both my palms landed on Ryan’s chest for support, but Ryan slapped my left away, “Only one hand allowed on the Ryan-Rodeo.”  
His eyes were glistening and I would’ve rolled mine at his comment, had my prostate not been hit right then. It seemed as if with every new fuck, Ryan and I were getting better and faster at locating my prostate.  
“I don’t think we’d make it as TV stars,” I panted, referring to our earlier dramatic soap opera scene. I had no idea why I said it. My thoughts were all coiled up and jumbling like my brain was shaking along with my body.  
“Why not?” Ryan groaned and I was amazed he even knew what I was talking about.  
“Too explicit,” I answered before the urge to moan swept over me again.  
Ryan laughed, a breathless, horny laugh. He pushed up his hips, and started meeting my thrusts in the middle. Fuck, it felt good.  
I knew I couldn’t last much longer. I should’ve adapted some stamina by now, but Ryan felt too fucking good, I didn’t even want to resist to hold myself back from spurting come across his stomach. Heat waves were washing over me and a mix of groans and filthy signs were echoing in the room.  
My right hand gave in and our chests were pressed against each other, as I collapsed on top of Ryan. His lips quickly found mine, while pools of hot liquid were forming between us.  
“Fuck Ry, I love you,” I panted, because I was nothing but a great actor who, even in the state of orgasm, could stay in character of our soap opera re-enactment.  
Ryan opened his mouth to say something, but a moan came out of his parted lips instead. Amateur, I thought, and Ryan came inside me.

“So, you love me, huh?” Ryan asked and smirked, rolling over on the mattress so I could see the mischievous look plastered on his face.  
“Absolutely,” I rolled my eyes, “I wouldn’t change a thing about you, were I given the chance. Not your brattiness, not your shopping addiction, not your horrible coffee making skills, not even your happy morning person attitude. I mean, I could go on and on with the things I simply adore about you, because you’re just too perfect the way you are.”  
“Aww, how sweet of you to say that,” Ryan cooed, grinning like a maniac, “And for the record, I really love me too.”  
Another roll of my eyes. Ryan laughed. I scrambled out of the bed.  
“I need to finish packing my stuff,” I said and hurried back into the living room where I stuffed everything I had into my backpack.


	24. Chapter 24

“You’re alright?” Someone asked and I turned around to see Dallon sitting down beside me in the sand.  
Even though I had come out to the beach to be alone, I smiled up at Dallon. It was always good to see him.  
“Yeah,” I nodded, my eyes back on the waves washing on shore. It was too early in the day for tourists to be out and overcrowding the beach. Except for the handful of surfers in the water and the occasional runners jogging by me, the beach was completely desolate.  
“What are you doing here?” I therefore asked Dallon, who shot me a confused look. “At the beach. At this hour.”  
“To watch the sunrise. It’s pretty and I don’t have to see people, well normally,” he winked at me playfully, “It’s a good way to start the day.”  
“Yeah,” I agreed and watched as one of the surfers fell off his surfboard and into the ocean, only to be back up surfing again within seconds.  
“How was New York?”  
“Good.”  
Dallon nudged me, “C’mon, something must’ve happened or you wouldn’t be out here moping like a lovesick puppy.”  
I sighed in defeat. It was good to complain, anyways.

“Gabe, huh?” Dallon said, after I had given him a brief recap of everything that had happened in New York.  
“Yeah, it was really weird and Ryan won’t tell me what happened.”  
“Hmm,” Dallon picked up another handful of sand and let it rinse through his fingers. The wind had picked up, the waves splashing loudly, and I uncrossed my legs, pulling my knees to my chest for warmth.  
“You cold?” Dallon asked, noticing the change in my sitting position.  
I shook my head on automatic. I don’t why, but I always denied it when I was cold. Maybe because when I was a kid, playing time was always over when it was too dark and cold outside, and my mom told me to come back inside, even though I wanted to keep playing. That’s just a theory I made though. Bad habit, I guess.  
“Bullshit. You’ve got goosebumps,” Dallon said and pressed his index finger against my skin to point out the goosebumps that had formed on my arms. I should’ve brought a sweater, instead of just going out in shorts and a thin muscle shirt. Dallon was wearing the same outfit, and on him the muscle shirt was actually living up to its name. Though our clothes were the same, his touch was warm, whereas my body was begging for a heat source. I let my gaze linger on Dallon’s arms, noticing not for the first time how in shape he really was.  
I slid closer and leaned into his side. After a moment of hesitation, Dallon threw his arm around me, and I was embraced in warmth. It was an okay thing for us to do. Dallon and I were friends. We could touch and sit like this. If it was Ryan instead of Dallon, we’d be making out by now. But since we weren’t kissing, it was an innocent action and I allowed myself to appreciate the well-formed abs that were pressed against my side.  
“So what did you do while I was gone?” I asked and grinned up at him, adding, “You met anyone?”  
“Nah, just hung out with Jon and waited for you to return.”  
“I could set you up, if you’re lonely. I know some pretty hot guys from the hotel that I’m sure would love to meet you,” I offered, half teasingly, half serious. It’s what good friends did after all.  
“Oh really?” Dallon asked, unsure whether or not I was joking.  
“Yeah, like Jake, he’s tall, blonde, green eyes-“  
“Sorry, not my type.”  
“What’s your type then?” I said, because Jake was really fucking hot.  
“Well, for once, I like short guys. Dark hair too. And brown eyes. Full lips, good ass too.”  
“Asshole,” I muttered, when I realized who he was describing.  
“What?” Dallon feigned innocence, “Do you know anyone like that?”  
I forcefully rammed myself into his side. Dallon laughed and I felt the vibration of it running through his body.  
“I better leave before I’m late for work,” Dallon extracted his arm from me and stood up, stretching his arms overhead before grinning at me, “Maybe I’m lucky today and get to deliver a package to the man of my dreams.”  
I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly what kind of package he was talking about.

The moment I got back to my room after work, my phone began to ring.  
“Hello?” I answered, uncertain who was calling me, since I didn’t recognize the caller ID.  
“Brendon, hey. I need to talk you. Meet me in the lobby in ten?”  
“Sorry, who is this?” I asked. I was 99% sure it was Pete, by the sound of it, but clinging desperately to that one percent of hope that it wasn’t.  
“Pete, of course!”  
I groaned, “Can’t we meet up tomorrow? I’m tired.”  
“Nope, today in, well, it’s nine minutes now.”  
With that he hung up and I resisted the urge to throw my phone against the wall. How the hell had he even gotten my number?  
I was still dressed in my suit and changed into jeans, taking my sweet time. Pete could fucking wait.

“You’re late.” Was the first thing Pete said when I arrived in the lobby half an hour later.  
“I had to shower,” I explained to him, which wasn’t even a lie. I had planned on taking a shower tomorrow morning, but changed my mind after his phone call.  
“How was New York? I didn’t see any photos of you in the media,” Pete noted sourly and I blushed involuntarily, remembering that the whole point of my travel was to promote mine and Ryan’s relationship. But other than the one shopping trip we had made, dressed up in disguise, we really hadn’t gone out to the public much during the few days we had spent together.  
“It was good. We went shopping most of the time and visited a lot of tourist attractions,” I exaggerated. We had visited one mall and the Statue of Liberty.  
“Oh well then,” Pete’s voice was full of bitter sarcasm, “I guess the everyone suddenly lost interest in the world’s most famous model’s life.”  
I shrugged my shoulders innocently, “I guess so.”  
Pete’s eyes flared up with anger, “The only reason Ryan’s not binge fucking New York right now is because of me. Because we had a plan that you’re currently screwing with. So I suggest you start doing what I say, or-“  
“Or what?” I interrupted him, equally furious. Pete wasn’t the boss of me. He couldn’t threaten me with shit.  
“Or you’ll lose him like this,” he snapped his fingers and I abruptly stood up.  
“We’ll see about that,” I said, before making my way back to the elevators.  
“Brendon!” Pete hollered after me.  
“What?” I said and turned around to look at him.  
“I don’t know what exactly is going on between the two of you, but whatever you think you have with him, remember that you’ve only met a few weeks ago. I’ve known Ryan since he was a child and not once has he chosen anything over his career. So I strongly suggest you do as I say if you want him to keep you around.”  
“Goodnight Pete.”  
I left the lobby in distraught. Of course Ryan would pick his career over me, I had no doubt about it. But I wasn’t standing in his career. What the fuck was Pete on about? 

I played with my phone on the way back to my room. I hadn’t talked to Ryan since I’d left New York. Maybe I should text him, tell him I got back safely. Tell him that I miss him. Or maybe I should leave that part out.  
My fingers were hovering over the screen. It wasn’t like Ryan and I texted a lot, mostly our messages were just him telling me to meet up with him, and then my ‘okay’ response.  
I put my phone back into my pocket, only to pull it out again.  
“Got back to Miami. How’s NYC without me?” I finally pressed sent and tried not to wait too desperately for my phone to vibrate.

By the time I had gotten back to my room and watched an entire movie that played on TV, I decided to go to bed. Maybe tomorrow, I’d wake up with a new message on my phone.


	25. Chapter 25

The party was loud, not as low key as Dallon and Jon had promised. But the music was good, so I wasn’t about to complain.  
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Dallon, pulling me back into the group to introduce me to some more of his model friends.  
“That’s Brennon,” he slurred and a round of murmured hi’s made their way to my ears.  
I smiled widely at the new faces, more hyped up than drunk. The smell of weed was constantly in my nose and I left Dallon to go find Jon to borrow a smoke or two from him. Despite the small size of the house, it was packed with people and finding Jon turned out to be harder than I’d initially thought.  
“Brendon!” I heard my name being called and was suddenly wrapped up in a tight hug by Patrick. “Didn’t expect to see you here, man!”  
I laughed, happy to see him, and told Patrick how Jon was good friends with the guy throwing this party and had dragged Dallon and me along to join it.  
“Happy he did!” Patrick yelled over the music and offered me a smoke that I gratefully took. Good, I didn’t have to search the entire house for Jon now.  
Patrick and I kept talking about random shit until we were interrupted by no other person than fucking Pete Wentz. I groaned internally and the look on Pete’s face when he recognized me told me that the feeling was mutual.  
“There you are, Patty-pat. C’mon I wanna show you something. It’s amazing, you’ll love it. I promise,” Pete chirped and took Patrick’s hand, pulling him away from me and leaving me alone in a room that was mostly filled up with strangers.  
I was surprised to see Pete here. It wasn’t a high-class party. Patrick being here I could understand; Patrick was cool after all. But Pete? What the fuck was he doing here? I always assumed he’d go to the kind of parties Ryan went to. Guess not. Or maybe Ryan did spend his weekends at some random guy’s house party and not just at A-list celebrity nightclubs. How would I know what he did? It’s not like I could ask him. Ryan was still in New York, not talking to me.  
Jell-O shots started being passed around and I greedily took a green one. Too much vodka was in it, I could barely taste the apple flavored Jell-O, but it was still good and I quickly grabbed another one. I was young and free, could do as I pleased. Tonight was a night worth living.  
Dallon’s tall frame caught my eyes and I rushed over to him, pulling him with me to the little area where people were shamelessly groping each other and pretending to dance.

“Bright….light,” I moaned in pain and tried to blink the sun away. Something grunted next to me and the blanket, that I was comfortably lulled in, was suddenly gone.  
“The fuck?” I muttered confused and reached out to pull the sheet back that had so rudely been stolen from me. It was cold without it. The blanket, however, didn’t move. I grudgingly rolled onto my side and tried retrieving the blanket with both hands. It resisted at first, but eventually I got it. Feeling victorious, I laid down on my back again and tried to go back to sleep.   
“Ugh,” I heard someone say before the sheet was yet again taken away from me.  
“Okay that’s it,” I said angrily, more awake now after the recent arm workout. I sat up on the mattress and glared daggers at whoever was now hiding their face underneath my blanket. I pulled a the fabric with all my strength and soon enough Dallon’s face was uncovered.  
“Give it back,” he complained, but I didn’t bulge. I needed that blanket more than he did.  
I closed my eyes in contempt, but all that movement had made it impossible for me to go back to dreamland. I was slowly and painfully becoming aware of my brain starting to work and hinting to me that, maybe I should be more conscious of where the fuck I was.  
My eyes flew open and I stared in complete shock at Dallon, who was laying next to me in bed.  
Did we…? Fuck. “Did we fuck?” I asked him aghast. No, we wouldn’t have. I hadn’t been that drunk. Had I?  
“Nope.”  
I exhaled in relief.  
“That’s good,” I said, my voice hoarse. Then, as an afterthought, or maybe to just fill the silence, I added: “Ryan’s flying back today. Or should be back. What time is it?”  
Dallon didn’t respond. His eyes were closed and all signs of care on his face were gone. I looked at him envious, wishing I could sleep a few more hours too. I was tired and my brain felt too big to fit in my head. I staggered out of bed, stiff joints protesting, and trod into the kitchen.  
1:32pm, the digits on the microwave display read.  
“You want eggs?” The door to Jon’s room opened and him and some guy I’ve never seen before stepped out. At least one of us had gotten laid last night.   
I looked down on myself, only now realizing I was still in yesterday’s jeans and shirt. Glad again, I hadn’t slept with Dallon. It would’ve complicated everything.  
“Oh hey Bren,” Jon acknowledge my presence, “I’m making eggs. You want some too?”  
I shook my head, not wanting to be the third wheel during breakfast.  
“I should get going, actually,” I muttered and wondered if Ryan was already back in the hotel. His plane should’ve landed by now.

Ryan was back. I opened the door to my room to find him lying naked on my bed.  
“There you are,” he grinned and lifted his head, the movement causing his upper abs to pop out.  
“Hey,” I said, because it’d been a while since we’d seen each other and not greeting him felt weird. It wasn’t because I didn’t know what else to say.  
“How was work?” He asked casually, his eyes roaming over my black dress pants and red blazer.  
“Same as always. How was New York?”  
“It was more fun with you there,” he smiled devilishly at me, still perfectly naked and I felt myself getting hard just at the sight of him.  
“You could’ve called, you know? Or at least texted me back.” I said it more flirtatious than bitter. Who cared if Ryan and I hadn’t spoken in over a week? He was back now and on my bed, undressing me with his eyes.  
“What’s the point of talking to you, if I can’t touch you?” Ryan quirked an eyebrow at me, beckoning me closer with his lust-filled gaze, while I pondered over whether or not I should be offended.  
“Who says I’ll let you touch me?” I countered, yet contradicting my words by slowly making my way towards the small bed. I’d forgotten just how hot Ryan was. The memories I had of him didn’t do him justice.  
“Facts. You can’t resist me,” he smirked knowingly.  
He was right. I really couldn’t. 

“Pete hates me,” I told Ryan, when he came out of the shower.  
“Because of the lack of pictures?”  
“Yup.”  
Ryan laughed, “Don’t worry about it. He preached to me about publicity for an hour on the phone. Pete likes you,though. He’s just going through some personal stuff right now.”  
“With Patrick?” I asked, grinning because Pete’s crush on him was obvious.  
“Sure, we’ll go with that.”  
The towel Ryan had wrapped around his waist fell and he smirked at me. “Round two?”  
“I don’t know,” I said thoughtful and faked a yawn, “I’m pretty tired right now, maybe I’ll just go to sleep.”  
I laid back down on my bed and pulled the blanket over my naked body. It was in the middle of night, to be fair, so me trying to feign exhaustion could easily be bought. But Ryan, of course, knew me well enough to know that I was only joking.   
“Okay,” Ryan said and I looked up at him in surprise.  
“You’re okay with that? Me sleeping, that is,” I clarified confused, because a sex-craving Ryan respecting my decision and not trying to persuade me otherwise had never happened before.  
“Of course. You need to rest.”  
Well, fuck. But I did want sex and Ryan would never let me forget it if I started begging for it now. He’s ego was big enough as it was, I didn’t want to further prove how fucking irresistible he was.  
“Goodnight then,” I said and tried to pull the blanket over me. But just then Ryan decided to sit on the foot of the bed, right on the sheet. “Move,” I told him, reminded of Dallon stealing my blanket this morning. What was up with people not wanting me to be covered up while I slept?  
Ryan smiled. Not a friendly, I’m-sorry-I-purposely-sat-on-your-blanket smile, but a dirty one.   
“Ever heard of a human blanket?” He asked, his eyes dark as he lowered himself on top of me. He kissed me, our semi-hard dicks rubbing together, and the world made sense again.


	26. Chapter 26

“Ryan, stop,” I giggled and tried to push his hands away, but to no avail. The flour bag was poured down all over me and fuck Ryan for being taller than me.  
Someone cleared their throat behind us and I turned my head to see Spencer standing in Ryan’s kitchen doorframe.  
“What the hell are you two doing?” He asked us in utter disbelief, hands crossed over his chest and face void of amusement. I could ask him the same question.  
“Baking,” Ryan smirked and pointed at the untouched mixer and empty bowl that were still sitting on the counter. Egg yolk was running down Ryan’s nose and sugar was in his hair, making it look like he had an extreme case of dandruff.  
“I hope you’re tipping the maid well,” Spencer, the killjoy said.  
“Maids, actually. I have three.”  
“Why am I not surprised?” Spencer lifted his foot, about to step into the kitchen, but seeing as the entire floor was covered in ingredients, he put his foot back down and remained to fret in the doorway. “And please turn the oven off, I don’t want to watch my hotel burn down because of your failed attempt to bake.”  
“Stop being paranoid. I’m a great baker.”  
“Oh yeah? Says who?”  
“Brendon,” Ryan smiled from ear to ear and Spencer shot me a dirty look.  
“Can I talk to you?” Spencer asked Ryan.  
“Can’t. I’m baking,” Ryan said, a shit eating grin on his face, “You can help us, though. We’re making brownies with skittles. Cause I like brownies and Bren skittles, so we’ve figured we put them together and make a super treat.”  
I nodded encouragingly, but Spencer shook his head. “That’s disgusting.”  
“Suite yourself,” Ryan shrugged his shoulders, “But don’t come begging for a piece when all the work’s done.”  
“I’ll try to restrain myself,” Spencer promised with bitter sarcasm and left to sit on the couch.

Just when he was gone, Pete appeared out of nowhere.  
“Ryan, did Spencer tell you?” He asked frantically and marched right into the kitchen. Flour was getting all over his black jeans, but Pete didn’t seem to care.  
“Tell me what?”  
“That,” Pete looked at me hesitantly, like he didn’t know whether or not I deserved to hear the rest. After a good three seconds had passed, he seemed to have made up his mind as he continued: “He’s back here. In Miami.”  
“Who?”  
“He,” Pete repeated conspiratorially, but Ryan’s face remained blank. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Pete swore and I tried not to laugh as I imagined him saying ‘for Pete’s sake’ instead. “Gabe’s back.”  
Ryan visibly paled. “You’re sure?” He asked and Pete nodded vigorously.  
“Spencer saw him downtown.”  
As on cue, Spencer appeared back in the kitchen, looking angry. “Pete, I told you I would tell him myself,” he hissed.  
“Did you really see him?” Ryan inquired.  
“Yes, but I didn’t get to talk to him.”  
“Great. So what the fuck are we supposed to do now?”  
“What the hell is going on?” I raised my voice, speaking for the first time since people had started barging in and interrupting our baking session. Ryan’s eyes flickered to me. Just like Pete, he seemed conflicted on whether or not I should be included in this apparent dilemma.  
“I, uhm, tell you later. Okay?”  
“No!” I snapped, suddenly filled with annoyance “For weeks I’ve asked you about Gabe and you’ve never told me anything. I have no idea who he even is and I’m so sick of you ignoring my questions. He’s more than just some ex-boyfriend of yours, isn’t he? Fuck, I deserve to know the rest.”  
I really didn’t. There were millions of things I didn’t know about Ryan, but it made a good punch line, nonetheless.  
Ryan sighed, “Fine. You can calm the fuck down.”

“So, uhm, I really don’t know where to start, actually,” Ryan admitted when the four of us sat in the living room. His eyes darted to Spencer, who shook his head.  
Pete groaned at them, “Stop making it all sound so ominous.” And then to me he said: “When they dated, Ryan told Gabe stuff that he shouldn’t have and Gabe wanted to go to the press with it. Spencer had to talk him out of it and Gabe promised he’d keep his mouth shut. They broke up and Gabe left Miami. We haven’t heard of him or seen him since, well, until now that is.”  
I stared at them incredulous: “That’s it?”  
“Well, it’s more complicated than that, but ya, that’s the short version of it.”  
“Then why are you all so freaked out about it?” I asked, because none of this made any sense.  
“Because, uhm,” Pete staggered, lost for words.  
“He’s not trustworthy,” Spencer cut in.  
I raised my eyebrow questioningly at him. Did they think I was trustworthy enough? No. Probably not. There was something missing in this story, something they weren’t telling me.  
“What did you tell Gabe then?” I directed my question at Ryan, who avoided looking at me.  
Spencer laughed disbelievingly, “You’re not honestly naive enough to think we’d tell you? Make the whole goddamn mistake all over again?”  
I supposed not.  
“Spencer stop being such an ass. None of this is Brendon’s fault,” Ryan spoke quietly. Finally answering my question, he said: “My dad- A couple of years ago, my dad. He owns a bunch of casinos in Vegas, you know? So, my dad, he got dragged into this scam and it was pretty heavy stuff. He told me about it when it got really bad.”  
“Ryan, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Spencer asked wide-eyed, though Ryan continued like he hadn’t been interrupted.  
“I was so upset and Spencer was off to a business trip. Gabe was there, so I told him. Get it off my chest, right? I didn’t think he’d tell anyone. Dad could’ve gone to jail if he had. Still can, actually.” He stopped to look at me, trying to read what went on in my head based on my facial expression. His dad had fucked up. So what? Ryan wanted to protect his family name and Gabe was a deontologist, believing he had to serve justice to the law.  
“Is this enough info for you, or do we have to talk for another hour or two about gambling laws?” Pete asked me impatiently, breaking the silence that had quickly settled upon us.  
I shook my head, “No, we can move on now. What’s next to do anyways?”  
“Find out what Gabe’s doing here,” Spencer answered matter-of-factly, “Which, frankly, is none of your damn business.” He stood up, Pete right on his heels, heading to the front door.  
“Keep me up to date, okay,” Ryan requested before the two other men left.  
“Of course,” Spencer muttered. And that was it.  
“I think we have some skittle brownies to bake,” Ryan smiled charmingly, like this whole scene hadn’t just happened. My mind was reeling. Something about this whole thing felt off.   
I smiled back at Ryan, nevertheless. We’d skipped breakfast this morning and my stomach was starting to protest, grumbling loudly.  
“Yeah, let’s go back to baking our masterpiece.”


	27. Chapter 27

“People are like clothes. There’s some you like, there’s some you don’t. Sometimes the ones that you like, you try them on and realize they don’t fit. Maybe the cut is wrong, or the fabric isn’t soft enough. You can appreciate a shirt that looks great but you know you’d never wear, because it’s not your style. But just because you favor brunettes, doesn’t mean you don’t notice a hot blonde when she walks past you. Then they’re some clothes that are great, but the price you gotta pay for them just isn’t worth it.”  
“Like that would stop you.” Keltie called out.  
Ryan smirked, “I know a good deal when I see one.” He winked at her before continuing his lecture: “Anyways, my point is that there’s plenty of clothes out there in the world. If you have a favorite outfit that you wear everyday, you’ll eventually wear it out and have to buy a new one. Which is why,” Ryan stopped for what I assumed was a dramatic pause, “I don’t believe in monogamy. You’ve got a closet full of beautiful designer clothes, why stick with one pair of jeans when there’s so many more pants to get into?”  
Jac began to giggle and Keltie was quick to join her.  
“Excuse me?” Ryan called over the waiter that had tried to pass by our table with quick steps, “Can we get another round of shots?”  
The restaurant we were in wasn’t one you’d normally see people getting drunk at or doing shots. At least I assumed so much, judging by the other guests that were giving us condescending glances every few seconds or so. The waiter nodded, obviously uncomfortable with being the one responsible for handing us more alcohol, and disappeared back in the kitchen.

“Drink up, Bren,” Keltie said and sloppily pointed at my half-full glass.  
“Yeah, don’t be a party pooper,” Jac chimed in.  
Ryan just grinned at me. “You’re not mad about the monogamy thing, are you?” he asked, “Cause you’re still my favorite Brenny. You’re still my favorite uhh,” he looked around and his eyes landed on his fedora that was sitting on the table. I recognized it, it was the same hat he’d bought when we first met. “Fedora,” Ryan’s smile brightened now that he had something to compare me with. “You’re my fedora Brenny, because I don’t really need you, but I still take you with me everywhere I go because you make me feel great.”  
“Ryan, that’s so sweet,” Jac exclaimed and Keltie awed and I promised to never agree to go out with these two.  
The waiter came back with our shots and also filled up our barely-drunk water glasses. I took a sip, then suddenly became aware of how full my bladder was.  
“Excuse me,” I said, more out of habit than courtesy when I stood up from our table. It took me way too long to locate the restrooms, and when I caught sight of the sign of the little stickman pointing to the door on the left, I pretty much sprinted towards it.

The door opened just when I was about to touch the handle. A man stepped out that I vaguely recognized. Tall, tanned, beautiful... oh shit.  
Gabe and I made eye contact. It took him a second to recognize me and, once he did, he smiled.  
“Hey,” he said.  
“Hi,” I replied and quickly brushed past him before he could start a conversation.  
I peed, my thoughts in complete disarray. When I went to the sinks to wash my hands, the door opened again and Spencer stepped him.  
“Spencer!” I exclaimed. It was probably the only time I was ever glad to see him. He could take care of the problem; he’d know what to do. “Gabe’s here.”  
“Yes, I’m aware.” I must’ve looked completely astounded, because he sighed and explained further, “He’s here with me. I invited him out here to talk and I hope you didn’t screw things up when you saw him.” He paused, waiting for me to shake my head and assure him that, no, I hadn’t fucked it up, before he continued, “You should really know better, Brendon. Gabe’s still hung up on Ryan and then you have to just throw it in his face that Ryan’s moved on.”  
I thought that now, with Gabe being back and all, Spencer would focus his hatred on him and like me a little bit more, but I guess that was wrong assumption.  
“Who are you even here with?” Spencer asked me, “I mean, God knows you can’t afford this place.”  
“Ryan?” I said, because his answer seemed kind of frivolous, considering we had just talked about Ryan.  
Spencer groaned, “Don’t tell me you’re the drunken idiots everyone in the restaurant is complaining about.”  
“Sorry,” I didn’t even try to make the apology sound sincere and headed for the exit.  
Ryan, Jac, and Keltie were still drinking merrily when I got back.  
“Ryan?” I said, ignoring the way Jac was practically rubbing herself against him.  
“Ya, baby?”  
“Can we go?”  
Ryan sent me a calculating glance. Despite his skinny frame, it took a lot to get him properly drunk. Even now, he wasn’t completely wasted yet and could see me begging with my eyes. It took a while, but he nodded eventually.  
“Okay,” he said, “Let’s go.”

“FINALLY!” The curtains were drawn back mercilessly and Pete’s cheerful voice was the ultimate alarm clock from hell.  
Ryan grunted something next to me, and it must be pretty fucking early if even Ryan was still trying to sleep next to me. “Whataya want, Pete?” He grumbled into his pillow.  
“You guys are finally on the cover of at least six different magazines.”  
“Great,” Ryan said, and in contrast to Pete’s colossal excitement, he sounded even less enthusiastic.  
Something hit my back and I grudgingly rolled over to see what it was: A copy of the newest J-14 issue. The cover had a picture of Ryan and me on it, with Ryan’s arm wrapped around my waist as we wait for a cab outside yesterday’s restaurant. I hadn’t even noticed any paparazzi last night. Next to our picture, was a photo of Gabe and Spencer. Has he moved on? Was the caption in big, bold letters and I wasn’t sure if was talking about Ryan or Gabe. Ryan hovered over my shoulder and after one second of glancing at the cover, he grabbed the magazine out of my hands and threw it against the wall.  
“You woke us up for this?” He asked Pete in outrage.  
Pete wasn’t intimidated though. “Yep,” he beamed, “And you guys are going golfing with Spence and Gabe at noon. I already ordered a cab to drive you to Dole, it should be here in an hour.”  
“What the fuck?” Ryan vocalized my thought, but Pete just grinned.  
“Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything on the way.”  
Ryan, at this point, looked completely incredulous. “You’re coming golfing with us? You?”  
Pete nodded, still beaming.  
“What the fuck, Pete? Who else is gonna be there?”  
“Dallon. He was going to go golfing with his friends anyways, and since Brendon and him are pretty close, I figured we just combine our groups together.”  
“And Patrick wouldn’t happen to be one of those friends coming along, huh?” Ryan said mockingly.  
Pete just shrugged and feigned innocence, “He might. How would I know?”  
I watched Ryan roll his eyes and bury himself under the pillow.


	28. Chapter 28

“I’ll have you know that I’ve never played golf in my entire life before,” I informed Pete and Ryan in the car. The cab was currently not moving, due to Ryan’s insistence that we stop at a drive-through to get coffee. Now we were stuck in the Starbucks entrance with about fifty million cars in front of us.  
“Neither has Pete,” Ryan spat. Even with sunglasses on, the dirty look he gave Pete was obvious. Maybe it was the whole trepidation he was feeling over the upcoming golfing event, maybe it was the magazine cover, maybe it was Pete, or maybe it was just one of those days where Ryan woke up as a complete bitch.  
“You hardly go golfing either,” Pete pointed out. He was texting on the phone – probably to Patrick- and unaware of the death glare Ryan gave him in response.  
Ryan threw his hands in the air. “Exactly! Then what the fuck are we doing going golfing?”  
“Publicity.”  
Ryan groaned and put his head on my shoulder, like arguing with Pete had completely drained all his energy. Despite Ryan being this skinny, lean model, his head was really fucking heavy and I regretted, not for the first time, that I was the one stuck in the middle seat. The car radio was on and playing some pop song Ryan I hated. I hummed along just to annoy him, but soon enough Ryan started to join me and sang a made-up song about coffee.  
“Will you shut up? I need to concentrate,” Pete complained, still feverishly typing away on his phone.  
“Co-ho-ho-fee-ee-ee.”  
I closed my eyes. How long could a car ride be?

“Bren-deh-heh-hen,” Ryan sang. He wasn’t even singing anymore, to be truthful, just moaning in a melodic tone.  
“What?”  
“Your phone is violently vibrating against my thigh. Unless it’s not a phone. If it’s a vibrator you gotta tell me. Hey Pete, do pocket vibrators exist? Cause those things would really come in handy.”  
Pete grumbled something unintelligible and I made that sound where you try to bite back a laugh, but can’t help it and produce this weird noise. Ryan was an idiot.  
“If come tasted like espresso, how many people do you think would suck cock?”  
“What the fuck?”  
“Don’t worry about him,” Pete told me, “He’s a mix of horny and decaffeinated. It happens sometimes.”  
“You’re weird,” I therefore said to Ryan.  
“I’m neglected,” was his response, “And your phone is still fucking vibrating and it’s annoying.”  
“Sorry,” I apologized, not sincere at all, and pulled out the ever-vibrating phone. Ryan’s head was still on my shoulder, and not that I had anything to hide, but we normally didn’t look at each other’s phones and I felt a bit awkward opening the text message.  
“Your mom loves you,” Ryan noted, having read the message much faster than me.  
“Thanks for telling me.”  
“You’re welcome. Are you texting her back? Tell her I said hi.”  
“I doubt she knows who you are,” I said. My mom wasn’t all that into fashion, even less into young male adult fashion models.  
“She will soon enough,” Pete told me and it sounded like a threat coming from him. “Moms have a way of spotting their son’s face if it’s printed on half a dozen of magazines.”  
Oh shit. He was right. I hadn’t mentioned Ryan to my mom in any of our conversations and now it was only a matter of time until she found out.

“Shit, I have to call her.”  
“We can facetime her together if you want,” Ryan offered and started making out with my neck, his hand suddenly stroking up and down my thigh.  
“You can just film a porno in the car and send it to her,” Pete suggested, which encouraged Ryan only the more.  
“You guys are such a huge help,” I noted sourly.  
Hot breath was suddenly on my ear, “You know what else is huge?”  
“Your ego?”  
I felt him grin. His hand was sliding towards my crotch and there was no way I would call my mother now.

“This,” I said, throwing my hair towel on the couch, “was the worst,” I took the towel around my waist and smacked it next to the other one, “day ever. I hate golfing.” I plunged down on the couch next to Ryan.  
“It wasn’t _that_ bad.”  
I looked at him pointedly and Ryan sighed in defeat. “Okay, it was bad.”  
“It was horrible,” I exclaimed and started recapping today’s event, because clearly Ryan seemed to have repressed the memory of it already. He needed to be reminded and I needed to rant. “I mean, first we’re late because you needed your stupid coffee. Then Pete’s overly possessive of Patrick, because the moment I talk to Pat, Pete starts hitting me with golf balls.”  
“I thought that was an accident.”  
I stared at Ryan in sheer disbelief. “Accident? He did it on purpose. It was so obvious, you were just too busy hiding behind Spencer to see it.”  
“I was talking to Spencer. I was not hiding.”  
“Yeah, right.”  
Ryan glanced at me daringly, “What’s that suppose to mean?”  
“Nothing. I just think it’s funny how you didn’t even once look at Gabe. Not once.”  
“You mean in comparison to how often you looked at Dallon? Because, forgive me, but I got tired counting after the seven-hundred fiftieth time.”  
I rolled my eyes at him. “Oh, stop being so dramatic. We’re friends. Dallon and I. I didn’t fuck him and kick him out the city, unlike you did with Gabe.”  
“Did you call your mom yet?” Ryan very unsmoothly changed the topic and fuck. I hadn’t.  
“This conversation is so not over.” I told him before standing up and grabbing my phone.  
“Uhu,” Ryan just grinned, as if he’d really just won the conversation. He hadn’t. Yet, anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized (maybe a bit too late) that I should probably not let them all go golfing when I have absolutely no golfing knowledge, so yeah. I was going to write the actual part where they're all at the course but decided to skip it before I write some crazy golf story that's unbelievably inaccurate.


	29. Chapter 29

Work was fun. Work was great, actually. I really enjoyed playing these dumb, boring songs for the millionth time. Seven more days and then I’d be done. On a plane back home and summer would be officially be over and, consequently, so would my relationship with Ryan. It was fine. It was great, actually. I couldn’t wait to see my family again. I’d miss them more than I could ever imagine myself missing Ryan. He was just one person, after all.  
“Hey!” A sharp voice interrupted my thoughts before they could swell any further on Ryan. Ryan, who’d taken me to see Wicked on Broadway yesterday. We’d both been in disguise, now that my face was printed on magazine covers along with Ryan’s, I had to waltz around in sunglasses as well if I wanted to avoid paparazzi. We’d gone behind Pete’s back, because ‘Fuck him’, to quote Ryan’s whisper as we’d waited for the show to start. It had been such an amazing night, it had been the-  
“Hey!” I snapped out of it again as the now slightly angrier voice (if it was even possible for him to sound angrier) of my manager drilled through my reminiscence. “Quit dreaming and start playing,” he hissed at me. I looked down on the piano keys surprised. My hands weren’t exactly moving and I debated whether or not I wanted to know for long I’d stopped playing.  
“Move it, boy,” my manager cheered me on in his most threatening tone, “You don’t want to lose this job a week before it ends.” I gulped and started playing, my hands sliding over the keys almost on automatic. A week. He just had to remind me of it, didn’t he? I sighed and hit the keys a bit harder, played it a little louder, it was an aggressive piece of music anyways. I was fine, though. I felt great, actually.

“Hurry up,” I mouthed at Ryan, impatiently for him to hang up on whoever he was on the phone with. We were meant to be having sex right now. I didn’t come here to watch him talk to someone else. Time was of the essence, didn’t he understand?  
I undid my tie that already hung loosely around my neck. It had waited for Ryan’s hand to wrap around it and use it to pull me in closer, but I was getting hot and not in the sexual way. Ryan’s suite was uncomfortably warm. It didn’t bother him though, as he was only wearing a pair of shorts that hung loosely on his hips. Not teasing me in the slightest while I sat on his couch in blazer and dress pants, trying not to become a sweaty mess before we’d fuck. Maybe I was a little bit annoyed. Maybe I tried to throw the tie at Ryan and missed. And just maybe I contemplated taking my shoe off and throwing it at him. His back was turned on me, he paid no attention to my doings whatsoever. I wondered if I managed to hit his butt with my shoe, if it would bounce right back at me. Like a boomerang. His ass was just so round and perky and my hands were tingling from the crave to touch.  
Of course my ass was better than his. I wasn’t overly aware of my every body part’s appearance, like Ryan was, but I knew what my biggest strengths were. Big being the key word here. My own ass didn’t help me though. I could massage my butt cheeks and finger myself for the rest of my life if I wanted. Ryan, however, I would lose in less than 168 hours.  
I took off my blazer, leaving it on the couch along with my shoes and socks, as I stood up. Ryan was laughing softly into his phone when I approached him. He smiled at me, before he noticed my half undressed state, then he shot me a disapproving look. He loved foreplay. I figure Ryan had some kind of clothing kink. The more clothes I wore when I came here, the more layers he got to take off, the happier he got. I grinned, remembering the time I took a bunch of Ryan’s scarves and wrapped them all over my body. God, it’d been such great sex.  
“I gotta go, Spence,” Ryan said finally, and, really? He’d wasted our time to talk to Spencer, of all people? Ryan pocketed his phone into his shorts and gave me another once-over. “I wanna show you my place.”  
“Now you decide to give me a tour of the suite?”  
Ryan flashed me a you’re-stupid-but-cute smile. “My actual place, silly.”  
“Don’t say silly, it sounds stupid.”  
His smiled changed to a pitying one. “You’re really confusing, you know that? You look all hot and sexy and I just want to fuck you, but then your face is pretty much screaming at me to just cuddle and baby you, ‘cause you’re just that adorable,” he stopped to take a breath and I knew he was done trying to compliment me. “But then you open your pretty mouth and I just want to slap you with a textbook or something.”  
“Gee, thanks.”  
“It’s true. You say the stupidest things sometimes.”  
“So do you.”  
Ryan smirked. “You’re a bad influence on me,” he said playfully and just then his phone began buzzing again.  
I groaned, annoyed that his stupid phone was cockblocking me for the second time tonight.  
“Cabs ready,” Ryan said, reading the text message out loud. “C’mon Bren. It’s a bit of a drive from here.”  
“Where are we going?” I asked, because the suite’s bed was perfectly fine for what I intended to do with him.  
Ryan just grabbed me by the hand and dragged me out to the elevators. “I told you, my house.”

“Why do you own a house again, when you pretty much live at the SJS?” I asked, looking at the ginormous building in front of me. It must’ve been three times the size of Ryan’s cottage in New York.  
“Because I’m a good friend and I support Spencer’s occupation.”  
“Fine, then don’t tell me.”  
We reached the front door and Ryan picked up a key that was hidden underneath the doormat.  
“I asked Spencer earlier to put it there,” Ryan explained seeing my cynical face.  
“Are you sure this is your house?” I asked, because this whole thing seemed kind of sketchy.  
“Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you.”  
I snorted and Ryan winked at me before pushing the door open and revealing a huge entrance hall.  
“Wow,” I couldn’t help but be amazed. The inside of the house was gorgeous.  
“Any preferences as to which room you want me to show you first?” Ryan’s hand was on my back, precipitously reaching my ass alongside his suggestive tone.  
“You wouldn’t happen to have a bedroom in here, would you?”  
“Oh, yes we do,” Ryan said, mimicking the overly enthusiastic voice of a tour guide, “Right along this way.”  
I followed him up a spiral staircase and grinned when I felt Ryan’s fingers start to undo the buttons of my dress shirt. Finally.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this update took so long. The chapter is as dramatic as the story will get and I’m not really good at writing drama, so I apologize if it’s too sappy. On the bright side, I already finished writing the next chapter and it should be up by next Tuesday.

“Who’s that?” I asked, pointing at a picture of a young Ryan and a dark haired man.  
“My dad.”  
“You two don’t look much alike.”  
Ryan snorted disdainfully, “Thank God for that.”  
“You really can’t stand him, huh?”  
“Didn’t really know him well enough to ever like or dislike him. He was just there to haul my ass to modeling agencies until I was good enough to have my own manager. Then whiskey bottles and beer were replacing me. And so was he.” Ryan added, smirked darkly, and lifted his more-than-once-refilled glass of rum, “Cheers.”

Ryan was getting chattier with every sip, while I was contempt with playing with my second beer bottle and listening to Ryan bitch about Jac and some other girl I didn’t know. It was a bit boring, to be honest, I didn’t care what Jac or any of Ryan’s modeling friends were doing with their lives. I glanced around the living room, the row of pictures on the walls catching my eye again. It mystified me why the hell Ryan would have so many photos of his childhood on display here, when it seemed like he didn’t enjoy that time in his life in the slightest.  
“Ryan, why did you bring me here?” I knew I was taking advantage of his drunken state and loose lips, but if I ever wanted to get the answer, this was the way to go.  
“My house?”  
“Yes.”  
“‘Cause it’s my house.”  
I tried not to roll my eyes. “Yes, but why are you showing it to me now?”  
“Because I like you and I hate this house. It’s actually my dad’s house, did you know that?” I shook my head and Ryan continued, “Yeah, well, it is. We lived here for a while, he had business to do here. You know when I was younger I thought he’d actually cared about my future and all, with him dragging me to every fashion show and model contest there was. Took me a while to realize it was his way of trying to get rid of me. And it worked, I haven’t talked to him in years.”  
“Didn’t you go see him when the casino scam happened?” I asked, remembering him telling me about how his dad had almost gone to jail and Gabe had wanted to go to the public with it. Surely Ryan had flown over to Vegas to help his dad out then, right?  
“What scam?” Ryan inquired, not really caring about our subject topic, but clearly happy in my sudden interest to participate in our conversation.  
“The casino one?” It dawned on me that I really didn’t know what happened back then. Ryan had explained it all very vaguely. “The one Gabe threatened to go to the press with.”  
That sentence seemed to do it. Ryan’s face lit up in recognition. “Oh,” he said and laughed, “No, that wasn’t my dad.”  
“So you lied to me?”  
“I did. But you’ll forgive me, right? You’re a smart boy. You know I’m a piece of shit and this was bound to happen.” He laughed again, sounding merrily, and despite him having a lot more to drink, I was the one to feel sick.

“God, my head feels like someone put their dick inside my brain and fucked it for a year.”  
“Tends to happen when you’re hungover.” I didn’t look up from the cartoon I was watching. I didn’t need to look up to know that Ryan was standing next to the couch in nothing but his boxers, hair messily tousled and eyes slow-blinking every few seconds like a cat.  
“Did you make coffee?”  
“Yep.”  
Tom was in the middle of chasing Jerry when Ryan flopped down on the couch beside me. The waft of coffee reminded me of all the other mornings I’d spent with Ryan. It was tempting to just forgive and forget, to carry on like we had and not mention last night, but I couldn’t. All last night it had been nagging me. Plus, Ryan had said it himself: I wasn’t stupid. If I wanted to know something, I wouldn’t stop until I got the answer.  
“So what _actually_ happened between you and Gabe?” Jerry had successfully escaped in the hole on the wall, and judging by Ryan’s abrupt stillness, he probably wished he could do the same.  
“What do you mean? I told you everything already.”  
I finally tore my eyes off the screen to give him the most scrutinizing look. “Don’t bullshit me.”  
I heard him exhale in dramatic defeat, “Fine. It had nothing to do with my dad, I mean in a way it did, like he was the one raising a kid in a casino, it was only a matter of time until I cracked, right?”  
He looked at me for confirmation but when I kept quiet, he let out another loud sigh and explained further. “I gambled a lot, drank a lot, fucked around a lot. Then Spencer wanted to talk to me at the hotel and that’s when I met Gabe. He turned my life around, got me out of this pit of misery I’d dug myself into.”  
“And then what happened?”  
“I screwed up. Went to Vegas, met some people. I never considered myself lucky and they didn’t believe in luck. We got along great. We all hit the strip and didn’t let chances determine our future.”  
“So you were the one doing the scamming?”  
Ryan nodded. “I told Gabe and he thought I should come out with it. It wasn’t just me cheating at cards, right? And we did it in my dad’s casinos, so chances were, I wouldn’t get into a lot of shit for it.”  
“Then why didn’t you?”  
“Fuck me if I know. I was scared, I guess. Pete and Spencer both told me to shut up about it, Gabe was the only one who thought I should come clean.”  
“So Gabe went to go to the papers himself and the three of you paired up and stopped him,” I finished the story for him.  
“Something along those lines.”  
That didn’t satisfy me. “Why’d you lie to me about this? You can’t honestly think I care about the shit you’ve done in the past. It’s present you I care about.”  
Ryan was quiet for a long time. “I didn’t trust you with the truth.”  
“Gee thanks. How do I know if this even is the truth? For all I know you could just be making up another lie, I mean, you’ve done it before. What’s stopping you from doing it again. Hell, this whole relationship started out as a lie.”  
“Brendon, don’t be like that.”  
“Why not? It’s the truth, also probably the reason as to why you don’t like it.” I was getting bitchier and bitchier by the second, but I didn’t give a damn. I had every right to be mad.  
“Just because I used you in the beginning, doesn’t mean I don’t care about you now.” My eyes turned to slits the exact time Ryan’s widened, probably realizing what he’d just said.  
“Used me, huh?”  
“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. And it doesn’t matter anyways, right? You just said it yourself, it’s present me who matters and present me likes you. A lot.”  
“Yeah, well, present Brendon is done with your shit.” I stood up to make a dramatic exit, but Ryan held me back.

“Stop it, Bren. I get it, I fucked up, it’s what I do. But I’m trying to fix this.”  
“Bob the Builder can’t fix the shit you’ve done.” I tried to make it sound hostile, but Ryan smiled weakly at me, not sure if I was joking or not. “You’re an asshole,” I therefore added, to make it clear that I was not forgiving him that easily.  
“Brendon, please. I like you a lot. I like us a lot. It’s only fake if we pretend it’s not real.”  
I arched up an eyebrow. “This conversation is getting beyond stupid.”  
“Just another reason for us to shut up and make up via making out.” He bumped me playfully and tried to pull me back on the couch.  
“No,” I said determinedly and wiggled out of his touch. “You always do that, you always distract me with sex and then when you leave, nothing’s solved until I see you again and then we just fuck and I’m stuck in this endless cycle.”  
Even to my own ears did I sound whiny and upset, though Ryan thankfully chose to ignore pointing my petulant behavior out. “I’m sorry,” he said instead. “I just don’t know what you want from me.”  
I want you. It was on the tip of my tongue and I bit down on it until I tasted blood. I wouldn’t let this argument turn into a shitty remake scene of Days of our Lives.  
“I like you,” Ryan reminded me again when it became obvious that I wouldn’t reply. “I really fucking like you.”  
“Stop saying that!”  
“Why?”  
“Because.” We both knew what he was really saying. Changing the verb didn’t do anything to hide it.  
“Because what?” Ryan snapped.  
“Because I like you too and it’s stupid and pointless and in six days this will all be over anyways.”  
“It doesn’t have to be.”

I looked at Ryan. He didn’t mean it. There was no way he could. “This-,” I said slowly, making sure my brain and mouth were both working together properly. “What we have, it’s a summer fling. I’ve got my life and you’ve got yours. I’m going back to school in September and you will continue to travel the world. We will not work out.”  
“If we both wanted it to, it could.”  
“No, because you’re Ryan Ross and I’m me.”  
“Glad you’ve got that one figured out.”  
“Shut up, I wasn’t done. You’re you-”  
“Uhu.”  
“Ryan!”  
“Sorry, I’m just trying to process this brand new piece of information.”  
“You’re impossible,” I groaned in annoyance.  
“Anything else I should know about myself?”  
“Yes, you fuck newbies, you’re reckless, you do what you want and you don’t go steady. And, most of all, you just can’t- you don’t have the right to get my hopes up, okay?” My voice sounded louder than before. I wasn’t sure if I was yelling or not.  
Big, beautiful, innocent eyes looked up at me. “I’m serious, Ry. Promise me we won’t see each other again in a week.”  
“You’re being stupid.”  
Maybe I was. “Just promise me.”  
“No, this is dumb. If you don’t want to see me again, just say so. Don’t fuck around and make me look like the bad guy.”  
“What? No, that’s not what I meant.” This whole conversation wasn’t going the way I’d meant it to be.

“Hey, don’t worry, I get it. I’m not exactly boyfriend material.” Ryan grinned grimly and got up to put his mug away. I followed him into the kitchen.  
“Don’t walk away from me.”  
“You’re the one _flying_ out of the state.”  
I grabbed his elbow and spun him around. “I don’t think we won’t work out because you’re not a great boyfriend. It’s everything else that won’t be right when I leave.”  
Ryan rolled his eyes at me. “Spare me with your bullshit. I’m _the_ Ryan Ross and you’re a nobody. You met me, thought ‘Hey, this guy’s worth fucking’ and now that you’ve got your face in magazines and I’m becoming a clingy burden, there’s no point in having me stick around.”  
“Jesus fuck, stop being so self-centered.”  
“But it’s true.”  
“Yes, you’re completely right. I’m just done using you and that’s why we need to stop fucking. It has absolutely nothing to do with me looking at it realistically,” my voice dripped with sarcasm but Ryan chose to ignore it.  
“Good. Glad we don’t have to pretend anymore.”  
“Me too.”

“Where are you going?” Ryan yelled after me when I spun around the kitchen and headed for the front door.  
“Out. You said we were done,” I yelled back, maybe a bit louder than strictly necessary.  
“That’s not what I meant. Come back here… Please.”  
“What’s it to you if I stay or go? I’m just a nobody, remember? Go fuck one of your newbies if you’re horny.”  
“Yes, I don’t want you to leave because my _throbbing erection_ is begging you to stay.”  
“You should call Jac. Or, wait, call Gabe. I’m sure you probably have a special part in his hole already.”  
“Don’t drag Gabe into this.”  
“Why, because it’s a similar situation? Are you gonna call Spencer and get him to fire me, too?”  
“Fuck you Brendon. Go back to the shithole you came from.”  
I made sure the slam the door shut when I left.

Once outside, the fresh air seemed to clear my mind a little and it slowly dawned on me how badly I had just screwed everything up. In a way, of course, it was good. The last memory I’d have of Ryan would be of him being asshole and that would hopefully help me, when his face would start haunting me again in the media. It’s better to leave on a bad note than be love-sick for the rest of my life.  
Wandering around the posh neighbourhood deeply in though, I lost track of time. I had no idea how far I was from the hotel and I couldn’t get myself to care. I didn’t want to go back. If Ryan changed his mind, he would have an easy way of finding me, and the more I walked, the more I realized that if he did call me up to his suite, I wouldn’t say no.  
Impetuously, I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket.  
“Hello?” The familiar soft voice greeted me.  
“Hey, it’s me,” I said, trying my best to sound nonchalant.  
“Bren, what happened?” Judging by Dallon’s concerned tone, I was pretty sure I failed at hiding the brokenness in my voice.  
“I’ll tell you later. Can I- Do you think it’d be okay if I moved in with you for a couple days?”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going away for a week and will be stuck in the car most of the time, so the next chapter will be really, really late :(

The next few days past by agonizingly slow, as if a clock was swinging constantly over my eyes and for every hour I stared at in, one second passed. Work was especially painful. I could play the songs in my sleep and therefore didn’t need to concentrate or look at the keys. Instead, I kept searching the room, looking for Spencer to come fire and release me from this hell. Sometimes, when I saw a short man in the audience, I imagined it was Pete, the things he would say to me differing depending on the scenario I made up. Though, really, the majority of the time I spent thinking about Ryan. Replaying our fight, changing the outcome in my head, even willing myself to admit that, yes, I had fucked up. It was too late now anyways and with every day that passed where I didn’t see Ryan lingering somewhere around the hotel, my hopes crumbled further.  
It was better this way, I told myself. In a few hours, I would be on a plane back home. Out of sight, out of mind, I just had to stay clear from the media and I’d be fine. Living with Dallon and Jon helped as well. I didn’t have to sleep in a bed where Ryan and I had fucked and although Dallon’s couch was torturing my back, I preferred it over a tortured mind.  
“Morning,” I looked up from the newspaper I was attempting to read to see Jon walk in. “What time is it?”  
“Ten to nine,” I answered with a quick glance at the clock on the microwave. 12 hours to go.  
“Oh fuck. I’d better get going then, can’t be late again,” Jon waved goodbye and hurried out as fast as he’d entered. He didn’t say what he was late for, and I didn’t have the chance to tell him his shirt was put on backwards.  
With Jon having broken the stillness, I was uncomfortably aware of how quiet the kitchen seemed with nobody but me in it. Dallon was still sleeping as far as I knew and Jon had come home alone last night, so there was no one of his one-night stands to have breakfast with. I didn’t want to eat alone and figured I could wait for Dallon and take a shower until he woke up.

“Jon, I told you a million times to knock first!” Dallon’s voice carried out of the shower when I entered. The shower walls were made out of glass and there was no steam in the room to blur the image of Dallon’s naked form shampooing his hair.  
I should go, leave the room like every non-perverted person would. However, it seemed like the reason for the lack of mist in the bathroom was because all the fog had gone into my head, clouding my brain and covering my common sense. Like I was in trance, my eyes stayed firmly on Dallon. Firm, being the key word, since I could see the biceps muscles flexing as he massaged the shampoo further into his hair. Of course Dallon was one of those people trying to save the planet and shutting the water off while lathering their hair. Then again, if he’d kept the water on, I probably would’ve heard the shower running and hadn’t come in. Speaking of which, I should really go, leave Dallon alone before my pants felt even tighter around my crotch.  
“Jon, shut the fucking door, the cold air is getting in.” His eyes were still closed, his fingers still running through his locks.  
When Dallon didn’t hear a response, his eyelids fluttered open and his gaze fell directly on me.  
“Bren,” Dallon looked confused, but not in a get-out-the-fucking-room-I’m-naked kind of way. It was a more inviting confusion and before I knew it my hands grabbed the seam of my shirt and stripped it off me. Fast and sexy-like; the way Ryan would’ve done.   
“Mind if I join?” I asked, suddenly finding myself right next to the shower with no pants on.  
Dallon was still too stunned to speak, but pushed the door open for me to get in. I didn’t hesitate and stepped right into his personal bubble. Some horny part of me was clearly taking charge of all my motor skills and grabbed Dallon by the neck, feeling the slickness of the shampoo on my fingertips, and gently pulling him down towards me for a kiss.  
“What are you doing?” Dallon whispered when we finally broke apart.  
I still felt like I was being possessed. I had no idea where the sudden urge to fuck Dallon had come from. I mean, sure, I’d thought about it plenty of times, Dallon was unrealistically hot after all, but I never actually intended to follow through with my fantasies. We were just friends, Dallon and I.   
“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” my voice said in words that could not be my own. Without breaking eye contact with him, my hand found the shower lever and warm water started falling down on us.   
Dallon looked like he couldn’t believe what was happening. I couldn’t blame him, neither did I.

His fingers felt cold under the constant stream of hot water pouring over us. I arched my back, trying to push back further. There was no room, of course. I moaned when a third finger was added to the rest, the sound a mix of pleasure and frustration.  
“More,” I croaked, voice completely wrecked. “Please. Fuck, I need you inside.” The fact that I was begging was the least of my concerns. I tried to move my hips again, but being stuck between the shower glass door and him, there wasn’t much room for me to do as I desperately needed to. His hand took up too much space, his arm forcing too much distance between his body and mine. It needed to be replaced by something else, simple as that.  
“If you don’t put your cock inside my right now, I swear to God,” I growled. It was hard to breathe, almost impossible to actually speak, but somehow I managed. Water was coming in and out of my mouth from the showerhead and if it hadn’t been so hot, I’d turn the damn thing off and scream my lungs out.  
“You sure you’re ready?” His voice was deeper than usual, rougher and wanton. I wasn’t used to hearing it and craned my neck upwards, trying to see his face through the waterfall. Hair was stuck to his forehead, the side of his right ear still had some white smears of shampoo on it where the water couldn’t reach. We made eye contact, his pupils were completely blown, no longer the clear sky-blue I was familiar with.  
“I’m ready,” I said, although I didn’t sound it. I felt ready, but my entire body was shaking and I couldn’t hide the obvious tremble in my voice. He pulled out his fingers and a series of gasps broke out from my lips. Leaning back, -now that I had the space since his hand was no longer in the way- I felt his dick slide across my ass cheeks. A shiver ran down my spine as his hands landed on my hips, pulling me in so close I could hear his heartbeat pounding against my shoulder blade and feel the muscles contracting in his abdomen when he began to roll his hips.  
He let go off my right hip, in favor to jack me off instead, seemingly content with the current situation while I whimpered with impatience, waiting for him to insert his cock and fuck me merciless.  
The tip of his head was running up and down my crack and if I’d known Dallon was such a tease, I would’ve changed our positions and fucked him instead. It was too late for it now, and, besides, his cock was perfect. Long and thick, pulsating between my cheeks; I’d be insane to pass up on the opportunity to feel him inside me.  
Just like the rest of him, his hand was huge. I could barely see my own dick while his fingers were wrapped around it, almost covering the base to head completely. Only my balls were somewhat visible, rocking at the side while his palm slid over my length.  
“Goddammit Dallon,” I aimed for annoyed, but when the words left my lips it sounded prurient. Still, I was done with foreplay and grabbed his dick with my own hand, aligning it to my hole and pushing my ass back further until his head finally slid in. I was stretched enough, -of course I was, he’d fingered me for a lifetime- but all the prepping in the world couldn’t have prepared me for this.  
“Jee-“ _Sus_. I couldn’t even curse anymore. I felt so full, so warm, so wanted. Dallon’s chest rumbled as he groaned. Hips snapped against me. Hard and fast, the kind that would leave bruises. Good. I wanted to remember this every time I sat on anything that wasn’t his cock.  
His thumb was on my slit, drawing circles on it with his fingertips and smearing pre-come over my dick before the water could take it down the drain. Dallon wasn’t much of a talker, unlike Ryan who’d always paint me a picture of how I looked exactly when I was being fucked from behind. A part of me was glad I could only hear Dallon’s heavy breathing and the sound of slapping skin that came with every thrust, pushing the constant stream of water into the background. White noise, that’s all it was now, there to harmonize with our moans and thrusts while we fucked.  
It took a while before Dallon established a rhythm of some sort, a quick one I could work with and I began meeting him in the middle, eagerly changing the angle ever so slightly until his dick began to brush against my prostate.  
“So… good,” I couldn’t concentrate. Water had gotten into my eyes and his hand in my cock became one blurry mess of skin. I blinked to get it out, but decided halfway against seeing completely and kept my eyes closed. The sensation was mind blowing. The rush of water, the slamming of our hips, the slide of his fingers, the sound of our breaths. It all became amplified. I could feel my cock pulsating against his palm, like if a vampire were to attack us right now he’d bite and suck my dick instead of my neck. The imagine this summoned shouldn’t have turned me on, but it did and I screamed. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut anymore, all my focus was put in not coming. I didn’t want this to end. Ever.  
Dallon flicked his wrist and all my efforts came undone. Come shot out of my tip and I opened my eyes, wanting to see this. The white liquid hit the glass door and just like the shampoo on Dallon’s ear, it stayed there, out of reach of the water and determined to stay.  
“Fuck that’s hot,” Dallon murmured lowly and his voice was even rougher than before. Streaks of come slowly dripped down the glass, like rain on a car window, leaving a trail and joining with other droplets when their paths met.  
I was too focused on the picture in front of me to pick up the sudden change in Dallon’s thrust. Before I became aware of it, he’d emptied himself inside me with a broken moan. He pulled out and shut the water off. The sound of the shower now gone and all that was left were our heaving breaths.  
“Fuck that was good,” I finally said and slumped back against his chest, relaxing as Dallon held me in his long, muscular arms.  
“It was perfect,” Dallon agreed, voice still hoarse but softer now.

“So, you’re ready to go back home then?” Dallon asked, fully dressed and pouring coffee into my mug. He sounded nonchalant and I tried to reply just as uncaringly.  
“Yeah, it’ll be good to see my family again. I kinda miss them.”  
Dallon nodded, sipping on his own cup and avoiding eye contact. It was unsettling. There never used to be this awkward, forced conversation with us. We used to get along great.  
“Dallon,” I began, not really knowing where I was going with this, but the uncertainty of where we stood made it impossible for me not to at least address the problem. “This didn’t fuck up our friendship, right?”  
He didn’t need to ask what I was referring to. “No. No, of course not.”  
“And you’re not being sarcastic, right?”  
“Brendon,” Dallon sighed and finally looked at me. “You’re leaving Miami today. Chances are we won’t see each other ever again. There’s no point in us trying to fix this now.”  
My eyes must’ve doubled in size, my mouth agape. “Are you seriously regretting we’ve fucked?”  
Dallon cringed at the f-word, like it was something dirty. I hadn’t meant it like that.  
“For the record, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed getting fucked by you.” I told him audaciously, unable to comprehend how Dallon could feel remorse over this.   
“Of course you did,” he muttered bitterly into his coffee. If it hadn’t been dead quiet in the kitchen, I probably wouldn’t have heard him.  
“What’s that suppose to mean?”  
“It means that- Never mind, I don’t want to argue with you about this.” He sounded tired, but I couldn’t feel sorry for him yet. Not when I didn’t know what was upsetting him in the first place.  
“Dallon, please tell me,” I said, softer and less aggressive than before.  
Minutes passed and neither of us spoke.  
“I’m an idiot, a hopeless, delusional idiot,” Dallon finally exclaimed. “We shouldn’t have had sex, Brendon. Just because I wanted you twice as much as you wanted me, doesn’t mean we compromised.”  
“What? No! I wanted you,” I interrupted him, but Dallon weakly lifted up a hand to signal me to stop.  
“You want Ryan. Not me, nor anyone else. Fuck Brendon, since the moment we first met in front of Mr. Smith’s office, I thought you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I wanted you, your smiles, your awful jokes, your floppy hair, your random singing outbursts. I wanted you.”  
“Why are you telling me all this now?” I asked, figuring it was only appropriate to talk to my coffee mug instead of looking directly at him. I couldn’t look in Dallon’s eyes after what he’d just said. I didn’t want to see what I was sure I’d find in them.  
“Because there’s no point in denying or hiding it any more. I thought I could be happy just having you as a friend, but every time I saw you with him, I couldn’t help but wish it was me. I’m sorry I slept with you, Brendon, I really am. I didn’t want to say goodbye to you like this, not when we had such a great summer together, up until this point.”  
With that, he finished the last sip of his coffee and stood up to put it in the kitchen sink. “I’ll call up a cab to drive you to the airport.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said this chapter would take a while to upload, I didn’t mean it to be _that_ long. If you’re thinking about going away to relax, don’t go on a road trip because those are exhausting. So anyway, I apologize for the delay from the very bottom of my heart (and by bottom I mean the bottom of the sea because all my ships sink and take my heart with it) and I promise it won’t happen again (mainly because there’s only one chapter left and I’m almost done writing it). So that’s that, enjoy the chapter :)

“Brendon, wait!”  
I turned around, right hand still holding on to the cab’s door handle, and watched as Dallon came running towards me. He stopped and stood right in front of me and I could hear his heaving breaths like it was the only sound the world permitted me to hear.  
His white shirt was too big for him and worn out, the neckline was loose and it exposed part of his collar bone. I focused on that, observing the tension in his shoulders, and didn’t dare to lift my head any further to look at his face.  
“Look,” Dallon said. Immediately my eyes snapped up and stared right into his. “I’m sorry. I was being a jerk earlier. I was confused, I acted out- but that’s no excuse.”  
“Dallon, it’s okay. None of it was your fault.” The way I spoke, it sounded reasonable in my head. But suddenly big hands were grabbing both of my shoulders and now I really couldn’t look away from Dallon’s intense, blue eyes.  
“Yes, it was. I just couldn’t let you leave without telling you that I-“  
The last part of his sentence was drowned out by the extended honk of the cab driver.  
“You're getting into the cab or what?” The man bellowed annoyed and Dallon hung his head in defeat.  
“Will you call me when you land?” His voice was unsure and for a moment Dallon looked as if he was a mouse trapped in a bear’s body; too small to fit in this big one.  
All of my luggage was already put into the trunk, except for the little black knapsack on my back. I quickly wiggled it off, opened the door, and threw it in the backseat before I wrapped my arms tightly around Dallon's torso and held him in a tight embrace. I felt his fingers pressing lightly into my spine and pulling me up- the way they always did when we hugged. I smelled the musky scent of body wash and shampoo on him, and it was strange to know that, today, I smelled the same.  
“Of course I’ll call,” I finally managed to answer, speaking into Dallon's neck with my nose pressed into the side of his throat.  
After a few seconds the driver felt the need to honk at us again and Dallon and I broke apart. It was strange how desperately I had to fight the urge to fall into his arms again. Strange how I could easily let myself miss Dallon. 

I liked Miami, I really did. But _God_ did I hate the airport. I was more than relieved when I finally found my assigned seat on the plane and sat down, looking out the small window and watching the airport before it would shrink and become LEGO City.  
The seat next to me was filled with a loud slump of the person falling into it. Reluctantly, I tore my eyes off the busy workers outside to check out who I’d be stuck sitting beside for the next few hours.  
“The fuck are you doing here?” The words left my mouth before I could filter my thought process. A man carrying a sleeping baby in his arms shot me a disapproving look.  
“Came here to talk. I figured the probability of you storming off before I can say my piece is fairly low here, considering you’d have to jump out the plane to avoid me.”  
“I could hide in the bathroom,” I pointed out weakly, sudden exhaustion washing over me at the sight of Spencer.  
“You’d have to pass by me to go on the aisle and trust me when I say I won’t let you go before I’m done.”  
“Ugh, fine.” I threw my head back and closed my eyes, trying to shut Spencer out as much as possible.  
“Ryan’s been completely miserable the past few days.”  
“Don’t care,” I lied and heard Spencer sigh, the kind of sigh my mom used to make whenever the principal called home to inform her about my latest shenanigans.  
“Well, I do and I’m sick of him looking at me like he’s Simba and I’m Scar and Mufasa is your dead love story. Except that when I tell him to run away, he refuses and there's no Hakuna Matata soothing his thoughts.”  
“You watch too many Dinsey movies,” I muttered.  
Spencer snorted, “Tell me about it. It’s not like I’m being forced to watch them with Ryan because they remind him of some idiot who’s currently sitting next to me on a plane.”  
“You put yourself on this plane. Don’t blame me for your misery.”  
“I’m sick of having that Hercules song stuck in my head and that is _so_ your fault.”  
I cracked my eyes open, curious to see if the slight desperation in Spencer’s voice was visible to see on his face. It wasn’t. “Frankly, Spencer, I don’t give a damn about you and your problems. I’m done working for you, you’re not my boss anymore and if you just boarded this plane to yell at me then I pity you because you're wasting your time.”  
“Oh, fuck off.”  
“I was kinda hoping you would, actually. Considering you live here and all.”  
“Aaanyway,” Spencer said, once he was done rolling his eyes at me. “Ryan’s a lovesick puppy and you don’t look much better. _Therefore_ , I’d appreciate it if you two could fix your problems and give me my best friend back in a not so damaged condition.”  
Despite my best efforts, my brain was beginning to dig up memories of Ryan. His dorky smile, his Bambi eyes, the curly mess of hair, and how his entire face seemed to be squint when he woke up in the mornings; insignificant day-to-day images of Ryan you couldn’t find in any magazines. “There’s nothing to fix,” I told Spencer and wished Ryan was here, simply so that he could supply me with a pair of sunglasses to cover up what must be showing in my eyes. “Ryan doesn’t want me.”  
“Yeah, right,” Spencer smiled grimly and for a moment I thought his features softened when he looked at me. I shook my head slightly perturbed, expecting to see Spencer’s usual icy glare back in place, but he still looked at me nicer than he’d ever had in the months I’ve known him for. I would have considered it as a friendly face, had I not been so disturbed by it.  
“Brendon,” Spencer started, sighing my name like it was tiring him out. “Ryan and I have been friends since we were kids. I _know_ Ryan. When I say he likes you, he likes you. When I tell you he’s madly in love with you, then it’s nothing but the truth. So just trust me when I say he wants you.”  
“I trust him when he says it to me personally. But isn't it kind of funny how he said the complete opposite?” My voice was laced with bitterness and Spencer scratched his head at a loss.  
“You’re not that stupid to really think that, Brendon. You didn’t see how Ryan changed after he met you. You just took it for granted the way he behaved around you even when it was completely out of character for him.”  
“Because he slept with maybe one less person in Miami than he normally would have?” I asked, my tone challenging, because who was I kidding? I had been nothing but a Newbie to Ryan, he'd said so himself, just another hole to pass the time filling.  
“Because he didn’t sleep with anyone but you.”  
My eyebrows shot up in surprise and my heart began to flutter before I could get a grip on myself. Surely Spencer was lying. But why would he? He was one of the last people to want me together with Ryan.  
Spencer ignored my state of shock and continued: “Do you know how many people he showed his house to?”  
I shook my head, still busy trying to swallow the lump in my throat, so I could learn how to speak again.  
“One.”  
I gulped. “Gabe?” I croaked, my voice as dry as my hands were sweaty.  
“No, he showed it to me. You’re the only other person, Brendon. Ryan let you in, and I bet you’ve seen sides of him even I haven’t seen yet.”  
This was all too much to take in at once and, to make it worse, the engine of the plane began to roar and, seconds later, we were in the air. I was hoping my ears would pop so I wouldn’t have to hear Spencer, but sadly, nothing happened and his next words were as clear as day.  
“Ryan loves you, Brendon. If he wasn’t so fucking insecure about his feelings for you, he’d shout them to the moon, you know that as well as I do.”  
But I didn’t know. My head was a mess, too much of absolute nothing. Like the clouds around us,blocking the view to see the world below. But if you inspected the clouds closely, you’d realize you were looking at nothing but air and water, nothing that should technically obstruct your vision.  
“Oh and one more thing,” Spencer said, like our pleasant tea party was over and he had to leave and we were not stuck together on a plane for three more hours. “I heard good reviews about your job performance and I’d love to hire you again for this coming Christmas season.”  
“You just want to boss me around again.”  
Spencer’s eyes sparkled in amusement and I was beginning to grasp how he could have friends. He was starting to grow on me, too- either that or I was slowly going insane.  
“Think about it,” Spencer offered kindly. “I make sure you get a few days during Christmas off, so you won’t have to worry about ditching your family and getting all your presents in the mail.”  
It was a good offer. I’d get some extra money for college and would have the chance to see Dallon, Jon, Patrick and all the others again in Miami. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”  
“I’m sure you will.” Spencer smiled at me knowingly and I did feel a bit crazier than usually when I found myself grinning back.


	33. Chapter 33

“Thanks Dallon. Yeah, I’ll be there soon, I’ve just finished my shift.”  
I smiled as I hung up, putting the phone back into pocket of my dress pants. It was good to be in Miami again; I hadn’t realized just how much I’d miss Dallon once I was back at home. I still needed to thank Spencer for offering me this job. I’d planned on visiting his office on the day of my arrival, but a week had passed since then and I still hadn’t found the guts to do it. Regardless of how nice Mr. Smith could be, he was still intimidating as fuck. Maybe I’d send him a Christmas card or something, I could give it to his secretary and avoid seeing him all together.  
Good plan, I mused, before a metaphorical buckle of ice water was thrown at me and I was frozen in my mid-walk out of the SJS Hotel lobby.  
I blinked, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, even if half of my brain wished that I was. Because this had to be some mirage of some kind. Ryan was supposed to be living in Milan, wasn’t supposed to be here. I’d triple-checked this before agreeing to the job. There was absolutely no way this was really him standing in front of me now.  
“Merry Christmas,” Ryan said and I couldn’t response. He took my disbelieving staring as a cue to continue on. “I got you a gift.”  
He moved his arm up a bit, forcing the wrapped parcel into my line of vision. Like a cat with a laser, my eyes trailed the movement of the box as Ryan held it up further, until it was hovering over our heads.  
“There’s something stuck on there.” I told Ryan, hoping it would lead away from the conversation we would inevitably have, and pointed at the green thingy glued to the bottom of the box.  
When my eyes fell back on Ryan’s, a fond smile was on his face. “I know,” he said and bit his lip before he continued. “It’s a mistletoe, Bren.”  
Oh. Ryan’s lips were staring at me. Or I was staring at his. My mind was suddenly too clouded to figure anything out.  
“You know, I never really understood why mistletoes are hung up everywhere. I mean, why not spruce branches? After all, they come from Christmas trees, so it’d only make sense to use them instead.” I began to babble, speaking whatever came to my mind and filtering only the NC—17 flashbacks that were invading my thoughts.  
“Well, there’s a Christmas tree right there if that’s what you prefer,” Ryan pointed at the gigantic, decorated tree standing in the center of the lobby. He grinned at me awkwardly, and even though I could feel myself blushing, I felt better knowing that I wasn’t the only one aware of the tension that had settled between us.  
“Look,” Ryan said. “I am so-”  
“Don’t say you’re sorry.”  
There was a flash of brilliant white teeth, “-so glad to see you.”  
“Me too,” I answered the automatic response, though it this case I realized it was true. It was good to see him again, we could talk and I would have the chance to finally get some closure, finally find the perfect ending to the chapter of “How Ryan Ross fucked with my life”.  
“We should talk,” Ryan said, before I could suggest the same idea. “If you have time right now, like I’m free whenever. Sorry, you were probably on your way out before I started bothering you. Maybe tomorrow we can meet for lunch?”  
“Right now is fine.” Dallon would understand, or at least I hoped he would.  
“Great.” A bashful smile was sent my way and yes, yes, Dallon would definitely understand.

“You look nice,” Ryan commented, looking me up and down before he sat down beside me on the couch in his suite. It was a new couch and I wondered what had happened to the old one.  
“Thanks,” I muttered. The ‘You do too” got somewhere stuck in my throat. Not that it really mattered, complimenting Ryan always felt like stating the obvious, like saying that the grass was green, that snow was white, that Ryan was gorgeous, it was all the same stupid common facts you didn’t have to talk about because the other person knew them just as well.  
“So, uhm. How you’ve been?”  
I raised a judgmental eyebrow at him. As much as I didn’t want to talk about our break-up, small talk seemed even worse.  
“Right,” Ryan coughed uncomfortably. “Look, I know you don’t want me to say this, but I am sorry. I messed up and I should never have treated you the way I did. I don’t expect anything from you either. I just came here because. Well, because I wanted to see you. I didn’t _need_ to see you-“  
“Wow thanks. I wasn’t dying to see you either, you know.” I interrupted him bitterly, almost having forgotten just how insensitive Ryan could be at times.  
“That’s not what I meant. Just let me finish explaining, please.”  
His eyes were boring right into me and I swear I didn’t remember his eyes being this big and round.  
“Okay fine, continue.”  
“I didn’t need to see you. I didn’t feel like dying when I suddenly realized I’d never hold you in my arms again. When people talk about their one true love, they always make it sound like the world would start collapsing around them if anything bad were to happen to them.  
But that’s not how I felt. Sure, I missed you immensely, but bottom line is, I can live without you, Brendon. I can drink and screw around and wake up alone every morning. Actually, I can wake up with someone beside me every morning. But that person wouldn’t be you. So basically what I’m trying to say is, that I _want_ you. I want your dorky little smiles and all of your childish quirks. I want to hear your voice singing under the shower and I want to be the one making fun of your cooking. I just want to be there for you, always.”  
“Ry,” I began, but then stopped. There wasn’t a thought simple enough for me to put into words. Ryan looked at me, a mix of hope, love, and something else in his gaze.  
“Yes?”  
“No, never mind. I don’t know what I’m saying right now, I’m just trying to process everything.”  
“Okay,” he grinned and his Ryan-Ross-Sex-God-Undercover smile didn’t exactly help clear my mind of all the good memories I had of Ryan and me together. I tried to think of the bad ones instead, after all, there were plenty of those too.  
I thought of the things that always made me hate Ryan, when I realized that, no, I didn’t hate him. No matter how often I laid awake at night and thought back of all the shit he did. I could never hate him. I could only miss him.  
Or I could replace the empty nights, where my mind constantly wandered and got lost in the past, with nights of unforeseeable futures. Nights with outcomes I hadn’t replayed and analyzed over dozens of times. Nights that were full of second chances.  
“You still have that mistletoe?” I asked Ryan, before I decided otherwise.  
I lunged over the couch to where he sat and pressed my mouth against his, settling in his lap, one hand carding though his hair, the other one entwined with Ryan’s own hand.  
“I missed you,” I admitted, muttering against his lips.  
“The best ones always do.” He smirked at me and I had to suppress a groan.  
“Your humor didn’t improve over the past months, did it?”  
“Nope. But for what it’s worth, I missed you too.”  
“Thank God we’re over that, huh?”  
“Yeah, silly of us to waste our time like that when we could’ve been doing this instead.”  
“Hmm.” I hummed in agreement, too busy making out with Ryan to notice the vibration of my phone in the pocket of my pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this story! When I got the idea of having Ryan being this supermodel, it was suppose to be a one-shot. Never in a million years did I think this would actually turn into a close to 50k story. This was also my first story on Ao3 and even though I was conflicted at first whether or not to post it online, I'm really glad I did. Without you guys' comments and kudos the story would've never gotten this far, so thank you again ❤ I'm sorry the updates were a bit (a lot) delayed and I'm sorry for any typos and grammar mistakes found throughout the story. Also, because I love self-promotion, I have another Ryden story that I plan to start posting on here soon. It's already finished, so the updates won't take a month so if you're interested, please check it out :D


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